A Family Forbidden
by RaindropsOnMyTeaCup
Summary: *FrUk/UkFr* FACE Victorian Human AU. Francis loved too easily, and had always wanted a family with Arthur. But being a man of fashion had made that nearly impossible, until he came across two urchins living on the streets. Later PruCan. (Rated M for language, strong violence in parts and sexual themes).
1. An Open Heart

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

The polished shoes of a wealthy gentleman tapped against the damp cobblestones of the Victorian London streets as he strode towards his home. It was the late evening, and the gentleman's sparkling blue eyes studied the view in front of him, always wary of pickpockets or provocative women. His shoulder-length golden hair had been tied neatly with a navy ribbon, but now that it had endured the day, a few loose strands caressed his cheeks gently.

The gentleman stopped as he heard, very faintly, the sound of echoing meek sobs. At first, he grew wary again, his slender fingers going instinctively to the pocket of his rich blue coat where his purse was. But the sobbing continued and did not seem to sound any closer than before. The gentleman hesitated, but noted that the sobbing was that of a child, and this made his open heart melt easily. He had always loved too easily: and he was so sensitive and kind that it was almost to the point of naivety and vulnerability. But now he didn't care, slowly advancing down a dark alleyway where the sobbing was sourced.

The gentleman almost tripped over something in the darkness, and suddenly he felt something press against his leg, pushing him backwards defensively.

"Who is there?" He asked, his French accent still prominent after living in England for almost ten years.

"Go away!" A small voice hissed, and the sobbing started again.

But the gentleman knew that the sobbing had not come from the same voice that demanded he leave. Straining his eyes in the dark, the dim moonlight finally outlined two figures. One was leaning again the grimy brick wall of the alley, its shoulders trembling. The other was standing with its legs somewhat apart in a defensive stance, protecting the trembling figure. The gentleman's expression softened as he saw that they were both children, and he lowered himself until he was crouched in front of them a safe distance away.

"I am not here to hurt you, _mes petits_." His voice was soft and soothing, but the standing figure didn't lower his defence.

"Go away!" The child said again, and as the gentleman's eyes adjusted more to the darkness he could see that the one speaking was a little boy, and the trembling figure was a younger, weaker-looking girl, although neither of them looked to be in the best of health.

The gentleman smiled kindly. "Are you hungry? I have some food…" he slowly reached into his pocket, taking out a piece of cake wrapped delicately in a cloth napkin.

The boy hesitated at this, widening his eyes as they hadn't eaten in days. The gentleman handed the boy the food, and he stared at it hungrily, but showing a praiseworthy level of self-restraint, he crouched by the girl and helped her to eat some first, before cramming the leftover cake into his mouth hungrily. The gentleman watched the display with a smile, already feeling love for these children.

"My name is Francis." He began gently, trying to gain the children's trust. "What are your names?"

But the boy frowned, still suspicious of him, and Francis nodded in understanding. "You can tell me when you are ready to. But I can offer you a warm bath and a comfortable bed tonight, and as much food as you can stomach if you come with me."

Again, the boy looked cautious, but the offer Francis was making was hard to resist. Francis smiled again, gesturing to the girl. "Is she your sister, _mon petit_?" He asked gently, and the boy nodded again.

Francis confirmed the action with a nod of his own. "I thought so. If you come with me, I promise I will pay a very good doctor to make your sister better, _oui_?"

This seemed to be the pivotal point for the boy, and he eventually nodded. "Promise you can help her?"

Francis nodded. " _Oui_ , I promise."

At this, the boy smiled, going over to his sister and whispering that this man was going to help them. His sister only turned her gaze slowly to Francis, her eyes dull and glazed. Francis felt his heart tug at the sight of the poor girl, and after reassuring the boy that he wasn't going to hurt her, he took off his coat, wrapping it around her before scooping her up. She weighed next to nothing in his arms, and the boy held onto the sleeve of his coat which had fallen out of the bundle, wanting to stay close to his little sister.

XxX

The house in which Francis resided was not far away, and overlooked Hyde Park. It was a huge mansion three storeys high, and although the boy had seen the towering building before, he never dreamt he would ever step inside. The double doors were almost a head and a half taller than Francis, and they towered over the boy, intimidating him a little, and he clutched the coat sleeve tighter.

Francis smiled, rapping on the door confidently and almost instantly it was opened by a smartly dressed butler. He recognised Francis and nodded his head.

"Welcome home, sir." He greeted, before passing his gaze over the two children and slightly raising an eyebrow.

Francis only smiled again and held the girl closer, almost protectively against his chest. "Good evening, Pearce." he smiled and then turned to the children. "This is our butler, Pearce. He and the other servants will take care of you as much as I will."

He then turned his attention back to the butler, asking for a bedroom to be made up for the two children and a supper prepared, before taking the children inside. The house was clean and bright, lit by candelabras taller than Francis. The boy widened his eyes, having never seen such a huge and beautiful place.

"Wow – this is your house?" The boy exclaimed in awe.

"Well, I live here, _oui_ , but my friend owns it. He lives here too, so you'll meet him when he finishes his work, I expect." Francis led the boy upstairs, still holding the girl in his arms. She was too weak to keep her eyes open for long, but her brother described everything to her, which Francis found sweet.

One of the maids who cleaned the rooms offered to bathe the children, and Francis thanked her, allowing her to take care of them while he found some clothes that would fit them. He had always wanted children, and he had made some children's clothes in the hopes he would have some. He found a small shirt, waistcoat and trousers for the boy, and a pretty red dress for the girl, though he knew it would be too big for her as she was a scrawny little thing.

He left the maid to dress them as well, and when they came downstairs again they looked completely different. The grime and dirt was washed from their faces and arms; their hair was neatly combed and they had been perfumed and pampered. The boy wriggled and fidgeted in his new clothes but Francis knew he would get used to them. The girl was still too weak to walk so the maid was carrying her, but she had a small smile on her features. Francis felt a swell of pride as he had already helped them, but now he led them down into the kitchens where supper was waiting.

XxX

Francis sipped his wine as the children ate hungrily, their manners sloppy but Francis forgave them easily. They had probably never been taught how to sit and eat nicely, and Francis began to wonder just how much they had been deprived of.

"Will you tell me your names now, children?" Francis prompted gently, and the boy looked up with food all around his mouth.

"I'm Alfred – this is Maddie." He said simply, but Francis beamed at the fact they trusted him with the knowledge of their names.

"Those are lovely names." He commented, before hearing the butler open the front door and he smiled. "Excuse me a moment, children." He ruffled Alfred's hair gently, before going to the hall.

His friend and the owner of the house was Arthur Kirkland, a stern, reserved man who had allowed Francis to live with him for ten years, ever since he came to England. He was slightly shorter than Francis, with big bushy eyebrows that half hid his emerald eyes, and dirty blonde hair that was forever unruly. He was dressed in a smart, green, three-piece suit that Francis always thought looked wonderful on him, and he turned to smile at Francis, stepping closer to greet him, but Francis quickly stopped him.

"I have something to show you, _mon cher._ " The Frenchman smiled and Arthur instantly grew suspicious.

"If you've changed all the furniture again, I swear to God – "

"That furniture was awful and desperately needed changing – but non, it's not that. Come with me." The Frenchman took his hand, leading the Englishman down to the kitchens to meet the children.

When he saw them, Arthur stopped in his tracks, blinking. "Children?"

Francis bit his lip a little nervously, having not thought about what Arthur's reaction may be until now. "Ah – Arthur, this is Alfred, and this is Madeline. I found them on my walk this evening, and I wanted to give them a place to stay."

Arthur went quiet, before gently but firmly grabbing Francis' arm and dragging him out of the kitchen to speak with him. Once they were out of the children's earshot, Arthur frowned.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? They need to be with their parents!"

Francis' face fell a little, but he met his gaze. "Arthur, the poor things were in an alley, sick and cold and dirty. I promised them I would help them."

"Then give them a package of food and send them on their way."

Now it was Francis' turn to frown. "But we have plenty of space here for them, and we can afford to keep them here."

Arthur sighed. "Francis, this is my house. You have no right to offer out our rooms to anyone you come across. We shall hand them in to the police."

"They will end up in a workhouse! And I would not have that on my conscience." Francis lowered his gaze to the floor. "I thought you wouldn't object, seeing as you took me in."

Arthur hesitated. "That was different."

"Non, it wasn't. You found me starving to death on the streets and you took me in. I've done the same for these poor children."

Arthur sighed again, but he was a stubborn gentleman and he shook his head. "They can stay here tonight, but I want them out of the house the next morning, is that clear?"

"But – "

"Is that clear, Francis?" Arthur repeated, his voice stern, and Francis sighed in defeat.

" _Oui_." Was all he said in reply, and Arthur's expression softened as he reached out to place a hand on the Frenchman's arm, but Francis moved back into the kitchen before he could. Arthur sighed, knowing Francis would be angry at him, so he went up to his study to hide himself away.

He couldn't stand seeing Francis upset.

XxX

Francis went back to see the children, forcing a smile as they had finished eating. "Now then, I expect you're both tired, aren't you?"

The children nodded, Maddie rubbing her eyes sleepily before reaching up for Francis like she would for her mother. Francis felt his heart pang again at the thought of having to kick them out the next day, but he scooped Maddie up with a smile, holding her in one arm as he took Alfred's hand in the other, taking them upstairs to their room. Alfred was far more talkative now, excited about the interesting turn their day had taken.

Francis smiled, leading them to their bedroom which had a double bed, but he figured the children wouldn't want to be separated in a strange place. He got them some nightshirts that were far too big and helped them change, before tucking them into bed. He couldn't help himself, and as he said goodnight, he gently kissed their foreheads, before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him, as the children had fallen asleep with ease in the large, comfortable bed.

Francis' smile dropped as soon as he closed the door, knowing that this wasn't to last, and he went to his own room, curling up on the windowsill and looking out at the garden below.

Arthur had come out of his study, having noticed the miserable look on Francis' features, and he couldn't ignore it.

He didn't knock on the door, just gently opening it and coming inside, closing it behind him. "Francis?"

The Frenchman didn't answer, staring forlornly out of the window. In his hand was a small teddy bear that he had made by hand, in the hopes that he could give it to his child someday.

Arthur's face fell, and he felt guilty about being so harsh earlier. He came over to him, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Love?" He said more softly, before sitting behind him on the windowsill and wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. Francis leaned back against him a little, sniffing softly.

"When I found those children today, I thought God was giving me a chance to finally have a family…" the Frenchman whispered, shielding his face from Arthur but the Englishman knew he was crying. His heart ached as he knew he had caused this, but he wished Francis didn't get attached to people so easily.

"Francis, you know we're living precariously enough as it is. If we raise two children without a wife, people will get suspicious."

Francis knew this; he knew that men of fashion were frowned upon and demonised, and if two children were involved, all sorts of nasty rumours would spread. "I know, _cher._ But…they're so little...!" His voice cracked as he said this and he broke into sobs. Arthur gently hugged him from behind, placing small kisses along his jaw.

"I am sorry, Francis. You know I would do anything for you, but I don't want to lose you." He whispered, and Francis finally looked at him. This was even worse, because now Arthur could see the tears and the heartbreak in his beautiful blue eyes.

The Frenchman turned fully, burying his face in his chest. "I know the risks, Arthur…but what we may face is nothing compared to what Alfred and Maddie could face out on the streets, or in a workhouse…"

When Arthur still looked torn, Francis wiped his eyes, pulling back and standing up, before going to his dresser and pulling out his nightshirt.

Arthur watched him, fearful of what may lie ahead for them if they kept these children. "Francis, I know it's hard, but we've been careful to keep out of trouble all this time."

Francis said nothing, but he undid his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders before starting on his trousers. Arthur didn't look away, as he was more than familiar with the Frenchman's body, but it still struck awe and desire in him.

"B-besides," he continued with some effort, "we will have to conceal who we are around them. They are too young to understand that our relationship needs to be kept a secret."

Francis had discarded his trousers and undergarments now, and he turned to him, fully naked and unashamed. Arthur stood up, unable to resist Francis' beautiful form.

"We hide who we are in public, _cher._ It will not be difficult to hide it in front of the children. We can still have time alone together…like this." As he spoke, he rested his hands on Arthur's chest, before sliding them up to loosen Arthur's cravat. Arthur admired Francis, his own wandering hands finding themselves around his waist in a moment.

"I suppose so. But…" the Englishman was fast running out of excuses, and he knew Francis had undressed in front of him just to get what he wanted, but by God it was an effective tactic.

Francis smiled. "But?" He prompted, before kissing along Arthur's jaw slowly and deliberately, each kiss sparking excitement and desire through Arthur.

"But…" Arthur tried to remember what he was going to say, but the damned Frenchman had made him lose his train of thought completely, and he sighed, finally giving in.

"Alright, fine. They can stay. But you will be responsible for them – " but he was cut off before he could finish as Francis suddenly kissed him with glee. The kiss was soft but enticing, and Arthur craved more as soon as he pulled away.

" _Merci_ , Arthur!" Francis beamed, and Arthur returned the smile, glad that he had made his Frenchman happy again.

When Francis kissed him again, Arthur was quick to reciprocate, tangling one hand in his golden locks as the other groped his ass, appreciating how beautiful Francis was. The two of them toppled back on Francis' bed, their night filled with passion muffled by heated kisses and locked doors.

* * *

 **A/N: So this is the first chapter of a new story. Please review and tell me what you think of it so far!**


	2. Choose

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Arthur woke up slowly, becoming aware of how comfortable he was in Francis' bed. The Frenchman was still asleep next to him, his head resting on Arthur's chest as he slept. Arthur smiled, kissing the top of his head gently. He loved these moments when it was just the two of them, and he could forget about the deviance of their relationship.

Francis slowly began to stir, nuzzling Arthur's chest a little as he did and the Englishman felt compelled to pull him closer, wrapping his arms around him protectively. The Frenchman hummed sleepily as he gained consciousness, dragging his beautiful blue eyes open and his gaze wandered around the room for a moment, before resting on Arthur. A small smile appeared on his features as he remembered the night before, and Arthur leaned down slightly to connect their lips in a soft kiss. Francis hummed happily, kissing him back before shifting under the covers, but this made him wince in pain.

Arthur blinked. "Are you alright, love?" he asked tenderly, rubbing Francis' back gently.

The Frenchman nodded, forcing a smile. " _O-Oui_ , you just…weren't very gentle last night."

This made Arthur blush darkly as he swallowed slightly. "Oh – I see…"

This was often the case, however, as Francis was so irresistible that Arthur could not help wanting to make love to him as hard as he could.

Francis only chuckled, cuddling against his chest again. "I should be used to it by now." He traced small circles over Arthur's upper chest, humming softly as he did. These simple movements ignited desire in Arthur, and he smiled, taking Francis' fingers and pressing his lips to them sweetly.

"Still, I shouldn't have been so…rough with you." The Englishman's tone was apologetic but Francis pressed a slender finger against his lips.

"Hush, I love it when you are rough with me, _cher_."

This made Arthur blush even darker but Francis only chuckled again, pecking his lips before drawing back and slowly dragging himself out of bed. Arthur watched lazily as Francis groaned softly in pain, hauling himself up before slowly and carefully getting dressed. Arthur smiled to himself, having always thought himself so lucky to have this Frenchman, but the sight of Francis covering up his beautiful body made Arthur furrow his brows slightly.

Francis finally turned back to him, having finished dressing and he had tied his golden hair back with a neat ribbon. "How do I look _, cher_?"

Arthur smiled as he asked the same question every day, and Arthur's reply was always the same.

"Beautiful." The Englishman replied in a soft voice, a smile on his features. Francis beamed at this, even though it was the same answer as always. But every time Arthur said it, he meant it. Francis was currently dressed in a white shirt with ruffles, his sky-blue overcoat accentuating his eyes and making him look undeniably handsome. His trousers were slim and emphasised his slim waist with a shiny belt, which was partially hidden by a gold waistcoat. Arthur had bought the suit for him a little while ago and Francis had fallen in love with it, wearing it as often as he could. But he loved everything that Francis wore, as the Frenchman had stolen Arthur's heart with his good looks and charm, and later his flamboyant personality.

Francis smiled, pleased with Arthur's comment, as he turned back to the ornate mirror he loved so much, adjusting his hair again even though Arthur thought it was already perfect. Arthur smiled, climbing out of Francis' bed, still in his nightshirt, and he wrapped his arms around Francis' waist from behind, making the Frenchman squeak in surprise and then laugh. Arthur hummed as he nuzzled Francis' neck gently, smelling his perfume that had always suited him so well, and Francis leaned back into his touch, sighing happily. But suddenly he let out a gasp.

"The children will be up soon!" Francis exclaimed with a smile, and for a moment Arthur didn't know what Francis was talking about. But then he remembered that Francis had given shelter to Alfred and Madeline, and he internally groaned. This meant he couldn't embrace Francis casually or steal a kiss in the comfort of their own home, and the thought of having to be so reserved in the Frenchman's presence made him growl softly.

Francis pulled back with a laugh, turning to face him and cupping his chin gently.

"Now get dressed, amour. I'll go and wake the children." With that, Francis glided out of the room, leaving Arthur already missing Francis' warmth.

XxX

Francis knocked softly on the door of the bedroom he had allocated to the children, able to hear a quiet conversation on the other side of the door. At the sound of his knock, the conversation was hushed and Francis heard someone jump down off the large bed and reach up to the door knob, tugging the door open. As he had guessed, it was Alfred who opened the door, as Madeline was still in the bed. They both looked well-rested, but Francis knew they would need to be well-fed and bathed until they got their strength back.

"Good morning, _mes petits_. Did you both sleep well?" Francis smiled as Alfred beamed and took his hand, dragging him over to the bed as he chatted about the dream he had. Madeline sat quietly but happily enough, shuffling over to hug Francis and lean against his chest weakly as Alfred described his dream. Francis smiled brightly as he listened to Alfred's babbling, holding Madeline close. Once Alfred had finished his story, Francis chuckled.

"Well, after that dream I'd say you must be hungry, _petit_. Why don't we go downstairs for some breakfast, _oui_?" At this, both children nodded eagerly, and Madeline reached up and wrapped her arms around Francis' neck so he would carry her. Francis obliged happily, holding her on his hip as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and taking Alfred's hand as well, taking them down to the dining room to eat.

XxX

Arthur came down to the dining room a short while later, dressed in a smart, grey suit and bow tie. Where Francis was attracted to flamboyant, Parisian clothing, Arthur preferred traditional English formal wear. But Francis thought Arthur was very handsome in a three-piece suit, so Arthur kept to his fashion of choice.

Entering the dining room, Arthur saw the two children still in their nightshirts, which Arthur did not approve of, and Francis was tending to them gently. Arthur was struck by how maternal Francis looked, and he realised that Francis was so much happier now that he had a family of his own.

Francis looked up as Arthur entered, and he smiled brightly. "Ah _, bonjour_ , Arthur!" he greeted warmly, as if the two of them had not shared a bed last night and this was their first interaction of the morning. It pained Arthur a little, but he found that he donned his stern, reserved demeanour almost to guard himself against it.

"Morning." He replied simply, sitting down at the head of the table where the day's newspaper was neatly folded on the table next to a cup of tea. The Englishman sipped his tea before opening up the newspaper and browsing through it quietly. Francis was slightly disheartened that Arthur did not even acknowledge the children, but he forced a smile as he returned his attention to the children, making sure they ate neatly and wiping their mouths for them carefully if they were too messy.

Arthur stole a glance at Francis, feeling a strange sense of envy towards the children, for they had Francis' undivided attention and Arthur was not even spared a glance from his beloved Frenchman. This thought made Arthur withdraw into his stern manner even more, and he finished his tea quickly, standing and abandoning the now read newspaper on the table.

Francis finally allowed him the pleasure of his cerulean gaze as he looked up at him. "Arthur?"

"I have to go to work. I'll be back in time for supper." Arthur said bluntly, before leaving the dining room and collecting his briefcase. He hesitated, missing the routine that he had fallen into of accepting a kiss and his coat from Francis, but Pearce seemed to sense his hesitation and handed him his coat in the place of Francis. Arthur thanked his butler with a mumble, before stepping out of his grand house and onto the cold, grimy London streets.

XxX

"Look, Francis!" Alfred beamed as he held up the picture he had drawn. It was of him and his sister, and a tall man with long, girly hair was holding Maddie's hand. Francis smiled as he knew Alfred had drawn the three of them. They had spent the morning exploring the house and baking a nice cake, and in the afternoon they had settled down in the library, drawing pictures of the things they liked. Francis was an artist, and Arthur had always said he would never get anywhere with his scribbles. He was right, of course, but Francis lived with Arthur and so he did not have to be successful. But now he had drawn the two children as he saw them drawing. Madeline had hidden her drawing, pressing it against her chest shyly.

Francis smiled as he complimented Alfred's drawing, before turning his attention to Madeline. "May I see your picture, ma petite?" his voice was soft and kind, and the girl blushed, looking down timidly.

"I-It isn't very good…" she whispered, afraid that Francis would scold her.

Francis only smiled though. "I'm sure it is beautiful, Cherie. Because you put time and effort into it, and that makes it good."

These words seemed to resonate with Madeline, as she slowly allowed Francis to see her picture. She had also drawn the three of them, but unlike Alfred, she had included Arthur and someone that Francis assumed to be Pearce. The drawing was neater than Alfred's, but also fainter, as she was still very weak. But Francis smiled brightly.

"That is beautiful, Maddie!" he praised, and she returned the smile a little shyly, but she was clearly very happy that Francis liked her picture. "You can both show Arthur your pictures when he gets home."

Alfred frowned slightly at the mention of Arthur, as he had not seemed to warm to him much. Honestly, Francis did not blame the boy, as Arthur had hardly made an effort to be kind and welcoming to the children. The young boy pouted slightly, claiming his picture back off the table, as if Arthur was not worthy of seeing it. Francis fought back the urge to sigh, as he desperately wanted the children to like Arthur and for the feeling to be mutual. But Madeline nodded, willing to let Arthur see her picture.

Francis smiled again, as at least one of the children seemed to like Arthur. But Alfred continued to frown, so Francis changed the subject by gasping. "Oh, the cake will be cool enough to eat now. Who wants a piece of cake, hm?"

Both Alfred and Madeline's eyes lit up at the offer of cake, and they both nodded. Francis beamed, taking them to the kitchens and treating them both to the delicious cake, setting aside a piece for Arthur.

XxX

Arthur sighed wearily as he completed the last paper he had to file. He had taken over the bank his father had owned and he worked every day to maintain the bank's success. But now he realised that time had slipped away from him, and that he was almost three hours later coming home than he normally was. The Englishman had always promised Francis that he would be home in time to share supper with him, and this was the first time he had broken that promise. He gathered his briefcase and coat, closing up the bank for the evening before hurrying home, hoping that Francis would be in a forgiving mood.

XxX

Francis had been in a forgiving mood, but as the time passed and Arthur still wasn't home, he felt even more disheartened. He had dined with the children, who had both chatted happily to him, already much happier and stronger than they had been when Francis found them. But Francis felt like a piece was missing; he did not want to be the only father to these children. He wanted, more than anything, for Arthur to raise the children with him, but now he was even absenting himself from supper, something Arthur had never done since Francis had lived here. The Frenchman thought that he had offended Arthur in some way, or upset him, although he could not understand why. But he knew that Arthur had missed supper on purpose, and it hurt Francis.

The Frenchman gently put the children to bed, kissing them both on the forehead after reading them a story from a book of traditional fairy tales. Alfred and Madeline had both fallen asleep against his chest, and Francis felt such a strong love for them that it hurt to think Arthur did not wish to be a part of this. Francis quietly left the room after tucking the children in bed, closing the door behind him softly.

He hesitated as he walked across the landing that overlooked the front hall, seeing Pearce crossing the polished floor. Francis went down the marble steps lightly, catching up to the butler quietly.

"Pearce?" he called, not wanting to wake the children. The butler turned, a lamp in his hand as it was dark outside already.

"Yes, sir?" the butler responded, polite as always, even though Francis suspected the butler had never particularly grown to like him.

"Has Arthur come home yet?" the worry seeped into his tone, and the butler softened slightly.

"Master Kirkland has not returned yet. Would you like me to inform you when he does?"

Francis sighed, nodding a little. " _Oui_ , I would appreciate that. _Merci,_ Pearce."

Pearce nodded, before resuming his route across the hall. Francis watched the butler for a moment, before heading back upstairs. All sorts of different thoughts plagued Francis' mind at Arthur's absence; the worst of all being that Arthur may be warming someone else's bed. This thought alone was like a dagger to Francis' heart and he stopped dead on the stairs, trembling as he imagined Arthur desiring someone else, lusting after them and kissing them passionately. Francis forced his feet to move again, marching to his bedroom and closing the door behind him, before allowing other horrible thoughts to reduce him to tears. He curled up on his bed, sobbing as he missed Arthur, wanting more than anything to just know what he had done wrong.

XxX

Francis had almost cried himself to sleep when there was a soft but firm knock at the door. The Frenchman gasped, wiping his tears away furiously as he sat up on the bed, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. " _Oui_?"

"Sir, you asked me to inform you when Master Kirkland came home. He has just retired to the study." Pearce's familiar English accent was slightly muffled on the other side of the door, but Francis understood his words perfectly.

" _Merci_ , Pearce." Francis dismissed the butler gently, but the images Francis had conjured of Arthur being with someone else had torn at his heart, and he did not want to see if they were accurate or just Francis' pessimism. It hurt Francis even more that the Englishman had not bothered to come and see him, to apologise for missing supper or explain to him the reason why, but he still wanted to put things right with Arthur. So, he slowly got to his feet, leaving his room and quietly heading to the study.

The lamp was lit inside the small room, and the door was ajar, so Francis peered in, seeing Arthur engrossed in his work. All at once he was overcome with the urge to flee back to his bedroom, but as he turned to leave, he accidentally brushed against the door, nudging it open enough to attract Arthur's attention.

The Englishman looked up, seeing Francis just as he turned to leave. "Francis?"

Francis jumped, freezing for a moment before slowly turning back to Arthur, coming into the study and closing the door behind him. "You missed supper." He said softly, not meeting his gaze.

"I got tied up in my work." Arthur said simply, not noticing how upset Francis was, unaware of the imaginings his sensitive Frenchman had conjured.

Francis looked up at him, his blue eyes sparkling with sadness. "You have never missed supper before. Not since I've lived with you."

Arthur furrowed his brows slightly, not understanding why Francis was so accusatory. "I apologise."

"Have I upset you somehow – offended you without realising it?" Francis asked, his slender fingers trembling as one hand still gripped the door knob.

"I'm afraid I don't understand – "

"Ever since yesterday evening, you have been hostile and stern towards the children. And now you are absenting from supper?" To Arthur, this seemed to be blown out of all proportion, but Francis saw this as perfectly logical.

"Francis, do not forget it was you who chose to bring them here, not me. That makes you responsible for them." Arthur's voice grew stern again, as he did not like being hated for something he was not even aware he had done wrong.

" _Oui_ , and I accept that. But you could at least be kind to them." Francis had also grown prickly at Arthur's stern tone, not appreciating being reprimanded like a child.

"Why should I? I do not wish to involve myself with them." Arthur stated matter-of-factly, but Francis seemed more upset at this as he looked down again, his blonde hair falling against his cheeks gently as his head bowed.

"When I saw Alfred and Madeline, I knew that God had given me a chance to have the family I had always wanted. I always wished that my family could include you, Arthur. I want you to be a part of this." Francis hoped that Arthur would realise the Frenchman saw them both as parents, but the thought scared Arthur, making him more defensive.

"I do not like children. I never have, and I never intend to. I refuse to take part in your delusional family dynamic, Francis. People like us cannot have a 'happy family', we cannot have children, and we cannot marry." Arthur's words passed his lips before he had thoroughly thought them through, and he saw Francis flinch at the word 'delusional' in particular, but Arthur's words in their entirety seemed to upset Francis greatly. Arthur realised this, his expression softening as he immediately wished he could apologise, but his damn pride would not allow it.

Francis heard his words, letting them be absorbed in the silence that followed, and when he met his gaze again, his cerulean orbs drowned in tears. "I only wanted – "

"You wanted the best of everything, like a damn fool." Arthur's words were flowing like acid before he could stop them, and every one burned Francis. "You cannot have your dysfunctional life with me and two children. So, either the children go back on the streets, or you and I distance ourselves from each other."

Tears slipped down Francis' cheeks as he whispered. "You cannot ask me to choose between my lover and my children."

"They are not your children, Francis."

" _Oui_ , they are!" A defensive fury suddenly fought past Francis' tears, and his eyes sparkled as he displayed his attachment to the children. "They are my family, and so are you! I cannot sacrifice one for the other."

Arthur knew that he had gone too far, but as he reached out to comfort Francis, the Frenchman batted his hand away harshly.

"Don't you touch me!" he hissed, his voice wavering with sobs. "I do not want to even look at you right now."

And with that, Francis fled back to his bedroom, locking the door behind him so Arthur would not be able to comfort him in the night.

Arthur felt a pang of heartache as Francis rejected him, cursing himself for being so foolishly possessive as to want Francis all to himself. He was just scared to lose the only person in this world who loved him.

* * *

 **A/N: So a bit more drama here. Do you think Arthur is going to give in to Francis' family dream? Or is Francis going to reject him completely now?**

 **Review and let me know what you think!**


	3. The French Boy

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Side note: this is a chapter set as a flashback to when Francis and Arthur first met and everything that happened between them before they met Alfred and Madeline.**

 **I hope you enjoy~**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Eleven years ago, in the pouring rain, Arthur had wanted to go for a walk. He was a boy of twelve; inquisitive and well-behaved, and he loved the rain. His father was often busy working in his study, however tonight he seemed to share his son's idea, telling the maid to fetch his coat as he found Arthur in his bedroom. It was a huge and lavish room which seemed inappropriate for a young boy, but the polite boy had never known anything different.

"Arthur, have you finished the work your tutor gave you?" his father asked sternly, observing the boy sat on the cold windowsill, admiring the rain. Arthur blinked and jumped a little at his father's voice, but he stood up and nodded.

"Yes, father."

His father nodded in approval, before taking his coat off the maid who had searched the house to find him. "Then fetch your coat and we shall go for a walk."

Arthur's eyes lit up. As strict and harsh as his father was, moments like these meant Arthur forgave any grudge he had previously held against the man. The obedient boy fetched his coat without delay, allowing the maid to button it up for him and slip his shoes onto his feet, tying his laces neatly. Arthur barely acknowledged her, as when he did his father would chastise him.

 _Servants were not to be acknowledged._

Arthur was not permitted to hold his father's hand, so instead he walked by his side as the two Englishmen left the huge mansion which ten years later Arthur would still reside in. Arthur's father held a large, black umbrella over their heads, its ominous shadow shielding them from the light of the moon, as if it may harm them somehow.

Arthur smiled to himself, feeling gleeful at being out in the rain that so often fell on England. It was a lovely night, and they lived in the nice part of London, where only a few ladies roamed, immersed half in shadow. Arthur did not know why the ladies stayed on the streets at night, as he did not feel like it was safe for them. But the last time he had asked his father, he had been spanked for enquiring. So this time Arthur paid the ladies no mind, walking past them and ignoring their whisperings.

His father walked next to him in silence, as he had always been a man of few words, and Arthur knew that if he attempted a conversation, it would only irritate his father. So Arthur attuned his ears to the falling of the rain, and the sound of his polished shoes clapping against the wet cobblestones, and –

Arthur paused as he heard something else, but he could not distinguish it very well. It sounded like a wail or a moan, and whatever it was, it was coming from a small alleyway. Arthur instinctively stepped towards the alley to investigate, but his father grabbed his son's arm harshly, tugging him back.

"What do you think you are doing, Arthur?" he reprimanded sternly, and Arthur flinched.

"I-I heard something." Arthur replied meekly, and his father frowned.

"It is just some whore and fool, I should expect." His father turned to resume their walk, but this time Arthur heard a word. Or at least, he thought he did.

"…Please…"

Arthur paused at this, for once being defiant and pulling away from his father, instead venturing down the alleyway. He had barely gone five steps before his leg brushed something and it groaned. Arthur gasped and jumped back, into his father who had pursued him. He turned to him.

"Father, there's someone here." His father frowned, taking his arm again.

"Come back here, Arthur. You should not go running off like that."

"Please, father. I just want to see who it is. Do you have a match?" Arthur knew his father smoked a pipe and he always carried a box of long matches with him to light it. His father sighed, producing the box and lighting a match, and suddenly a figure was illuminated, dirty and trembling. Arthur crouched down, able to see that the figure was a boy a few years older than him, with hair that was possibly blonde under all the grime, and rags for clothes. Arthur suddenly felt terrible, dressed in his finery when this boy barely had a shirt.

"Excuse me," Arthur tried to get the boy's attention, but he seemed barely conscious. He was so thin that his arms seemed like twigs, the skin stretched tightly over his bones. Arthur was afraid for a moment, the childish part of him seeing this boy as some strange monster. But the more mature part of his twelve-year-old self knew that this boy was just starving.

He turned back to his father, a hopeful, pleading look in his bright, emerald eyes. "Father, can we take him back with us? We can give him some food, a-and our house is big enough!"

"Quiet, Arthur." His father snapped, having never been a very charitable man. But he was torn between upholding his reputation and giving in to his beloved son.

"But father – " Arthur hesitated, before looking up at him again. "He can be my friend."

At this, his father realised it would do no good to defy him. "We shall take him home only so he can eat, but as soon as he swallows the last bite he is out on the street again."

Arthur's face fell for a moment, but then he nodded eagerly, his smile growing again. "Thank you!" he hugged his father, accidentally making him drop the match. His father sighed, pulling away and lighting a new one, before gingerly picking up the unconscious boy. His father looked visibly disgusted but Arthur held the match for him, thanking him repeatedly, so his father put up with it. They carried the boy back to their house, where his father handed him over to two servants. Arthur followed them upstairs, where they bathed the boy, before putting him to bed. Arthur sat beside the bed, waiting for him to wake up.

XxX

It had been hours, and Arthur had fallen asleep in the chair, leaning forward so his head rested against the bed covers. He was woken up as he felt the bed covers stir, and he looked up sleepily to see that the boy was awake and very groggy. He smiled brightly, sitting up.

"Hello." He greeted softly, and the boy jolted slightly in surprise, having not noticed he was there before.

When he got no response, Arthur continued. "My name is Arthur. What is your name?"

Again, all he got was a blank stare. Arthur was beginning to wonder whether the boy liked him or not, but he finally spoke.

"...Please…food…please…" the boy had a strong accent, and Arthur suddenly realised that he hadn't responded because he did not know much English.

Arthur guessed the boy was French, but he had not learned much French yet. His mother was fluent in French, and she had spent years studying it, but Arthur could barely string a sentence together. Instead he nodded, standing up and pulling the silent bell they had in the room which rang in the servant's quarters. Within minutes, a maid appeared with a tray of food and a cup of water, and the boy's eyes widened at the sight of food. Arthur watched as the boy ate hungrily, not having any manners but Arthur forgave him quickly.

The boy ate all the food, but then Arthur had to help him out of bed to the _en suite_ bathroom so he could throw it all up again. Arthur was concerned, but afterwards he helped the boy sit on the bed again, touching the cup of water to his lips so he could drink. The boy did so, before looking at him.

" _M-Merci_ …" he said weakly, but Arthur smiled as he knew what that meant, at least.

"You're welcome." Arthur replied, before there was a knock at the door.

Arthur's mother entered, smiling as she had interrogated her husband for information on the boy they had brought home, and now she wanted to meet him.

Arthur gasped. "Mother, I thought you had retired for the night." Arthur's mother had long blonde hair which now tumbled past her shoulders, and in her white night robe she looked like an angel.

She smiled beautifully, coming over and sitting on the bed. "I wanted to meet our guest."

The boy looked bewildered, and Arthur giggled a little. "He does not speak any English, mother. He is French."

At this, his mother beamed, taking the boy's hands and suddenly engaging in energetic conversation with him. The boy responded more willingly, and Arthur watched the two of them, not knowing what they were saying, but he noticed that the boy already looked a bit better. He had golden blonde hair that was shoulder-length, and he had sparkling blue eyes. Arthur wondered for a moment if he had mistakenly called him a boy, but he realised that the boy was still somewhat masculine, and handsome rather than pretty.

His mother smiled, turning to Arthur. "This young man's name is Francis. He stowed away on a cargo ship from Calais, isn't that exciting?" she laughed then, and Arthur laughed too. It was like something out of one of his mother's stories. "He came here looking for adventure, but when he got here there was no place to take him in." his mother continued once she had finished laughing. "I've said that he can stay with us for as long as he likes!"

Arthur beamed at this, hugging his mother tightly. "Oh, thank you, mother!"

Francis watched the mother and son embrace, and he felt happy that he finally had a place to stay, however he had lied to Arthur's mother. But she would never find out, fortunately.

XxX

It had been almost a year since Arthur had taken Francis into their home, and since then Francis had spent most days playing with Arthur, or being taught English by Arthur's mother. He had studied hard in order to communicate better with his adopted family, and he had done very well, in Arthur's opinion. However, Arthur's father still disapproved of the French boy's presence, only tolerating him at the insistence of Arthur's mother.

Today, the huge house was buzzing with busy servants and one excited little boy. Arthur was turning thirteen today, and his birthday was always the most celebrated holiday in the Kirkland household. Pearce, the family butler, coordinated the servants as they prepared the ballroom for a masquerade and readied the feast they would have.

Francis was bewildered by it all as he watched from the landing that overlooked the hall, and he jumped as a servant hurried past him and down the stairs. He blinked but smiled to himself at the outrageous effort everyone was going to for one boy. He knew Arthur was spoilt, but being the only child of the household, it was to be expected. Francis hummed a little to himself, going to Arthur's room and knocking on the door. Arthur was being dressed by one of the servants, but he dismissed them as Francis entered.

"The house is amuck." Francis stated as he sat on Arthur's bed.

Arthur smiled, having grown to find amusement in Francis learning English. "Stop using strange words just because you learned them yesterday." He teased, and Francis chuckled.

"Why should I? Your mother taught me these words for a reason." He replied simply, shrugging, before noticing that Arthur was only half-dressed, so he helped him with the rest of his clothes. He often did this, as Arthur's father had forced Francis to spend time with the servants until Arthur's mother found out, and so he had picked up some skills from the servants. Arthur stood still for him, watching him.

"Did you get me a present?" he asked expectantly.

Francis raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze for a moment before tidying the ruffles on Arthur's shirt. "I may have. But why do you need a gift from me when you have many from your family?" His English still was not perfect, but Arthur only smiled.

"Because you're my friend and I want you to give me something."

Francis smiled a little at this, before stepping back as he had finished dressing Arthur.

"Well, perhaps I will. Then again, what do you give a boy who has everything, hm?" Francis still had a heavy French accent, but Arthur had grown used to understanding him.

"I am a man, not a boy." Arthur frowned, but by pouting slightly he unravelled his own words, and Francis couldn't help but chuckle. "What are you laughing at?" Arthur demanded, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"Nothing, nothing." Francis purred, but amusement sparkled in his cerulean eyes. Arthur noticed that Francis' gaze lingered on him for a moment, almost as if the French boy were admiring him, but before Arthur could question it, Francis averted his gaze and turned swiftly on his heel. " _Excusez-moi,_ you are not the only one who has to be getting ready."

And with that, he left Arthur's room, the scent of his favoured perfume lingering in his absence.

XxX

The ball was beautiful. The ballroom was decorated with rich green colours, as green was Arthur's favourite colour. Arthur, being the guest of honour, was allowed to dance with some beautiful young women, while Francis stood at the side, dressed in finery but he was viewed as no more than a servant. Arthur's father had seen to that. No lady danced with him, and no gentleman engaged him in conversation.

Arthur felt guilty that Francis did not get to join in with the festivity, but he knew better than to go against his father. It was a long night, and when the final guests ebbed out of the house, Arthur felt as if he would fall.

Francis came over to him, chuckling in amusement as he escorted Arthur upstairs to his bedroom, where both of them promptly flopped on the bed. They were both exhausted, and Francis was somewhat sleepy as he had sneakily had a glass of wine, unbeknownst to Arthur's father.

Arthur laughed happily, sighing in satisfaction as he had had a fun day. He had opened his presents before dinner, and he had been given new clothes, new toys and other things he already had copious amounts of. But he remembered he still had not received a gift from Francis.

"Francis?"

"Hm?" Francis was laid next to him, and now he turned his head, his golden hair sprawled over the bed as he met his gaze.

"You still haven't given me a present." Arthur stated, looking at him with that same expectant gaze.

Francis hesitated, before sitting up, and so did Arthur. The French boy reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper, and he handed it to Arthur. "It isn't much. I will not be offended if you do not like it."

Arthur took the piece of paper, unfolding it to reveal a beautiful drawing of Arthur and Francis together. It was a work of art, and Arthur suddenly felt it was a shame that the paper was folded. "You drew this?"

" _Oui._ " Francis felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he had spent more time than he would care to admit making sure the drawing was perfect, only now he felt like it was foolish.

But Arthur smiled slightly, and then the smile grew until he was beaming, and he suddenly embraced Francis so tightly and suddenly that the two of them fell back on the bed again. Francis squeaked but laughed, however the sound died quickly as the French boy realised that now their faces were only inches apart.

"Happy birthday, Arthur…" Francis murmured, and without thinking, he did something that he had secretly wanted to do since the moment he heard Arthur's voice in semi-consciousness. He raised his head and kissed Arthur gently.

Francis had known it was a bad idea, but in that moment, he felt like it was just them, and no one else in the world mattered. But this view was shattered like a fragile glass when Arthur pulled back quickly and Francis felt a sharp sting across his cheek. Arthur had slapped him from his action, and now he scrambled off the bed.

Francis winced at the slap, sitting up quickly. "A-Arthur, _desole_ – I am sorry, I did not mean to – "

"Sin!" Arthur yelled, pointing at him accusingly as if he were the Devil himself. "You are living in sin! I shall tell father!" the naïve boy turned to open the door.

Francis widened his eyes. " _Non! Non_ , please." He trembled, knowing Arthur's father would flay the skin from his back if he found out. "Y-you don't know what they would do to me if they found out!"

Arthur was not sure whether it was Francis' words, the tremor in his voice or the genuine fear he saw when he met Francis' gaze, but he stopped.

"You must never do that again." Arthur said, trembling as well as he had never seen Francis with such raw terror in his expression.

Francis lowered his gaze, nodding and standing. " _Oui_ , I promise I will never – I am so sorry, Arthur…"

Arthur did not respond, only opening the door to let Francis leave, and the French boy slunk past him in shame, leaving the room wordlessly.

When he was gone, Arthur slammed the door shut, before rushing to his bed and curling up, not knowing what to think anymore.

* * *

 **A/N: So this was the first flashback chapter. For reference, when Arthur was 13 Francis would have been 16, and also there will be more chapters recounting Francis and Arthur's life before the children.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think!**


	4. Thunder (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND CHARACTER DEATH. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY UPSET BY SCENES OF PHYSICAL ABUSE AND HOMOPHOBIA. THE VIOLENT SCENE WILL BE MARKED BY AN 'XxX' IN BOLD AND UNDERLINED SO YOU CAN SKIP PAST IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO READ IT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

* * *

 **Side note: This is another flashback chapter that follows on from the previous chapter, so I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

It had been over a year since Arthur's thirteenth birthday, and the kiss they had shared had been forgotten. Francis had tried desperately to bury his feelings for Arthur, but on the other hand, the kiss had awoken feelings in the English boy. He did not really know what he felt towards Francis, except for the want to be with him all the time. One particular urge Arthur had was to share a bed with Francis; to be in his arms and to fall asleep with the Frenchman beside him.

One night, the mansion was rattled by a loud, angry storm. The windows lit up with lightning sporadically, casting raw, vicious shadows across Arthur's bedroom as the boy watched with wide, fearful eyes. The thunder rumbled and shook Arthur to the core, until he finally got so scared that he felt the bedsheets grow warm and damp between his legs, and he let out an embarrassed squeak. He knew he would be in trouble if his father found out, so he scurried out of bed, trying to take the bed sheets off the bed to change them, but he was in such a frightened state that he couldn't do it, and he didn't even know where the bed sheets were kept. Instinctively, he crept to Francis' room, knocking on the door timidly, but when Francis did not answer, he opened the door and slipped inside. He could see the outline of the Frenchman in his bed, asleep, and he rushed to Francis' side to shake him awake. Francis let out a soft yelp as he was rudely awakened, the almost eighteen year old boy slightly disorientated at being woken up so suddenly.

"Hm, _quoi_?" Francis mumbled, his accent thick from sleep, but when he saw Arthur's distress he seemed to wake up more. "What is it, Arthur?" he sat up, more alert now.

"I-I – " Arthur was trembling, his cheeks darkening as he felt so ashamed, and he looked down at his feet. "…I had an accident...i-in my bed…"

Francis' expression softened, and he silently slipped out of bed, taking Arthur's hand and going to his bedroom with him. He gently told Arthur to change his night clothes while Francis expertly changed Arthur's bedsheets without a word of judgement. Arthur changed as quietly as a mouse, and Francis disposed of his soiled sheets and nightclothes, knowing where the servants would put them. When he came back to Arthur's bedroom, Arthur was sat on his bed, still trembling, as the storm was still raging. Francis looked at him for a moment, before smiling.

"Would you like me to stay with you tonight, Arthur?" he asked gently, and Arthur hesitated, before nodding. He was terrified of storms, but being with Francis made him feel safe.

Francis smiled again, before climbing into Arthur's bed with him, wrapping his arms gently around the younger boy protectively. Arthur returned the smile, cuddling against Francis' strong chest and allowing himself to slip into a deep and happy sleep, able to ignore the storm outside now that he was with Francis.

The Frenchman smiled, and once he was sure Arthur was asleep, he gently stroked his hair, kissing the top of his head and allowing himself to pretend, just for a moment, that Arthur could be his.

XxX

Arthur felt his heart shatter as his father approached him. He was fifteen years old, and was turning into a handsome young man, but what his father said had reduced him to a young boy again. His mother was very ill, and the doctor looking after her had confirmed that she would not last through the night.

Arthur's whole world came crashing down. His mother was so sweet and kind-hearted, and she had always loved and supported her son and Francis no matter what. Arthur knew his mother was so wonderful and gentle, but he also knew she kept Arthur's father tame. Without her, his father may well become a monster.

Arthur felt as if he was in a daze as he wandered up the staircase, his hand gracing the bannister gently as he made his way to his mother's room.

XxX

Francis sat on the edge of Arthur's mother's bed, his hands cupping her weak ones gently and carefully, as if he was scared too tight a grip would break her frail fingers. The woman before him was almost skeletal, her sweet smile weakened by illness, and the sight of her broke Francis' heart.

"You have been so kind to me, _maman_." Francis whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks, as he loved her as his own mother. "I do not know how to ever repay you."

Arthur's mother smiled, her dulled eyes staring at Francis with just as much love. When she spoke, her voice was soft and meek, but her tone was gentle and kind. "All I ask, Francis, is that you are happy. I love you like a son, and I wish for you to find happiness and love."

Francis let out a sob, lifting her hands to his lips and gently kissing her knuckles. He let out a shaky sigh, sniffing softly. " _Maman_ , I have something to tell you. When you took me in, I-I told you that I came to England to find new opportunities."

Arthur's mother listened to him, giving him a soft smile of encouragement.

Francis saw her smile, and he nervously continued. "W-Well, that was a lie. My parents disowned me…because…" he faltered a little, before swallowing. "Because I was living in sin."

He glanced at her, afraid that she would think he was disgusting, but Arthur's mother only nodded gently.

"I knew you were a man of fashion, Francis. I always have." She said simply, but the words made Francis tense, and he looked at her in shock.

"Y-You have?" his voice wobbled with fear, but Arthur's mother only smiled.

"Yes. And I know that you are a wonderful, talented young man. I know that you are perfect for my Arthur." At her words, Francis teared up again, as he had no idea that she knew of his love for Arthur. "You have my blessing, Francis. And I shall watch over the both of you in heaven."

Francis smiled, despite his tears, and he leaned down, gently kissing her forehead. " _Merci_ , _maman_."

Arthur had reached his mother's bedroom, halting as he heard her words about Francis and himself. He hesitated, before gently knocking on her door.

Francis jumped slightly, seeing Arthur, but he stood, saying a final farewell to Arthur's mother before leaving the room, putting his hand on Arthur's shoulder briefly, before allowing Arthur to be alone with his dying mother.

XxX

Francis waited outside as Arthur and his father shared his mother's final moments. Eventually, Arthur came out of the bedroom, his eyes red and puffy, and when Francis saw him he opened his arms to him. Arthur clung to him, bursting into fresh tears and as Francis held him, he knew that she had passed. Arthur's father was still with his wife, and so Francis took Arthur back to his bedroom, holding him until the fifteen year old fell asleep from grief and exhaustion, and Francis tucked him in bed. He knew this would be hard for them all, but he had promised to Arthur's mother that he would take care of Arthur, and he intended to keep that promise for as long as he lived.

 **XxX**

Arthur's father sat in the library, nursing a glass of whiskey as he grieved the loss of his wife. Pearce, the butler, had entered the room.

"Master Arthur has retired to his room." Pearce informed him, and Arthur's father hummed a little.

"Good." As an afterthought, he stopped Pearce from exiting the room for a moment. "Pearce, fetch the French boy. Bring him down here, and then you can retire as well."

Pearce hesitated, knowing that Arthur's father had been drinking excessively, but he nodded, doing as he was told.

Francis soon appeared in the doorway. "You wanted to see me, _monsieur_?"

Arthur's father had poured himself another glass of whiskey, and was now mulling over the pages of an old book. "Sit, boy."

Francis hesitantly sat opposite the drunk man, nervous and fearful, though he hid it well. His gaze fell on the pages of the book Arthur's father was looking at, and he froze. It was a book that condemned sodomy, and Arthur's father was staring at a particularly graphic image of the act.

"It was because of you." The man stated, and Francis paused.

" _Monsieur_?" he was puzzled, not knowing what Arthur's father was referring to.

"It was you who invited the evil into our house that took my wife." The man growled, his hard, dark eyes boring into Francis' pale features suddenly. "She would never have fallen ill if it weren't for the devil within you."

Francis' eyes widened in shock and pain. Arthur's father was blaming Francis for his wife's death, when he had done nothing wrong. "I-I loved her as a mother – "

"Silence!" The man's voice was a thunderous roar as he slammed the whiskey glass against the coffee table hard enough that it smashed in his hand, making Francis jump. "Your pitiful existence is sinful! You should die for what you have done!" with one sweeping movement, the man delivered a sharp, stinging slap to Francis' right cheek, making his eyes water and his cheek turn red with the pain. He let out a small whimper, which only made Arthur's father hit him again, and this time Francis pursed his lips so he did not make a sound, although it hurt.

"You are the Devil! You are trying to turn my son to sin!" Arthur's father grabbed Francis by the collar, hauling him out of his seat as he loomed over him menacingly. "I have seen the way you look at him with your disgusting, lustful gander! How dare you!"

The man's face was so close to Francis' that he could smell the strong alcohol on his breath, and the Frenchman knew that he would be the one to bear the brunt of the man's grief. He wisely stayed silent, but that did not make Arthur's father any more lenient with him. The man dropped Francis back onto the seat, before he began unbuckling his belt.

Francis watched with wide, fearful eyes as the man folded the belt in his hand, holding it in one strong hand as he lashed out at Francis, and Francis felt the sting of the belt as it slapped his arm. He closed his eyes as the beatings got worse, biting his tongue so he wouldn't scream as Arthur's father lashed at him again and again with the belt, sometimes hitting his chest, sometimes his back or his thighs, sometimes straight across the face. When Francis continued to stay silent, it fuelled Arthur's father's rage. He wanted Francis to suffer for taking his wife away.

The drunk man dropped the belt, instead staggering over to the fireplace and firmly grasping the poker. He grinned sickeningly as he turned back to Francis with the metal poker in his hand, before lashing at him again. This time, Francis could not conceal his screams, and although the servants in the mansion heard them, they all decided it was best not to acknowledge the torture that Arthur's father was subjecting Francis to.

All Francis knew was pain, and tears mixed with his own blood as he begged for mercy, and then for forgiveness, but nothing made the drunk man yield.

Eventually, Francis was left in the library, bruised and bloody, with several broken bones and countless other injuries. He faded out of consciousness as he watched Arthur's father abandon him in favour of retiring for the night, no longer caring whether Francis was even alive anymore.

 **XxX**

Francis awoke in his own bed, and as he struggled to grasp consciousness properly, he was vaguely aware of agony. He sensed someone sitting on his bed, and he felt something cold press against his head, and suddenly a jolt of pain made him wake fully. He let out a gasp of pain, widening his eyes to see Pearce sitting beside him, his expression solemn as he tended to Francis.

"Do not stir, Mr Bonnefoy." Pearce advised quietly, and Francis reluctantly lay back down. The butler had cleaned and bandaged his wounds as best he could, but he knew that Francis would be scarred for the rest of his days, both physically and emotionally. "I could not intervene in Master Kirkland's actions, I hope you understand that." Pearce's tone was full of guilt and regret, trying to apologise for standing by and letting this happen to Francis.

But Francis nodded his head gently, and he even smiled, which Pearce thought was admirable. "I-I understand, Pearce. I am grateful that you chose to look after me now."

Pearce smiled softly at this, the usually stoic butler softening as he took sympathy on the Frenchman. "It was the least I could do."

Francis smiled, despite the pain flaring up more now. "Pearce, could you do something for me?"

"Of course, sir." Pearce responded, adjusting the pillows behind Francis gently.

"Promise me that you will never tell Arthur what his father has done to me."

Pearce was shocked at this, and as he met Francis' gaze he saw the desperation in his eyes. "Are you certain that is wise?"

Francis nodded. "Arthur loves his father, and he just lost his mother. He should not need to worry about me as well."

Pearce found he had admiration for the Frenchman before him. He was being brave for the sake of Arthur, even though he could have been killed this evening. "What if it happens again, sir?"

Francis just shrugged lightly. "It is better for it to happen to me instead of Arthur."

XxX

Pearce had left Francis to sleep, having given him some remedies his own mother had used in order to help dull the pain. But it had barely been two hours before Francis' door opened quietly. Francis was still awake, only lightly dozing, so he heard the door open. He turned his head, seeing Arthur close the door behind him again, before coming over to the bed. The English boy did not seem to realise that Francis was awake, and Francis closed his eyes again, pretending to be asleep, but he smiled softly as Arthur slipped into bed next to him, resting his head against his chest. It caused him great agony from his recently obtained injuries, but he managed to keep quiet as Arthur soon fell asleep next to him.

Francis let out a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around him protectively as he silently vowed to always be there for Arthur, no matter what.

* * *

 **A/N: So this turned out to be a very dark chapter, but I like to give characters sad backgrounds XD Please review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Secret Passages

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Side note: This is NOT a flashback chapter, in other words it continues on from the events of chapter 2, where Arthur tore apart the family Francis had tried to create.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Francis woke up drenched in sweat, his chest heaving and his heart racing. His eyes were wide with fear and his back stung, echoing the pain from the scars that had formed there. The Frenchman was still plagued by nightmares of the torture that Arthur's father used to inflict upon him, although usually the feeling of Arthur's body beside him, his arms wrapped lovingly around Francis soothed him. But this time Arthur wasn't beside him, for Francis had locked his bedroom door. And this time, Francis' nightmare had been so haunting that he was shaking. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks as he remembered the agony and fear, and he let out a soft sob as he felt all alone.

The bedroom suddenly seemed too large and too empty, and the dark shadows of the room struck fear of the unknown into Francis, as he still felt haunted by Arthur's father and his monstrous actions. Trembling, he slid out of bed, crossing the bedroom gingerly. His steps were light and quiet, and his fingers fumbled as he turned the key in the lock, unlocking the door and the click it made seemed too loud to Francis. The house was silent and in slumber, and Francis prayed that he would not disturb the children as he crept past their bedroom.

Eventually, he came to Arthur's bedroom, and he hesitated. He knew that their last conversation had ended in an argument, and he was aware that Arthur may not want to see him. But Francis needed him, and he was willing to risk the rejection. He knocked softly on Arthur's door, and when no answer came, he quietly opened the door. The room was dark inside, and Francis waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark environment. But when he could see, he observed that Arthur's bed was empty. He blinked, his face falling as he needed Arthur, but he didn't know where he was. Francis crept into the room more, hugging himself as he just wanted Arthur, but he jumped as he heard the door close behind him.

He whirled around, still in a state of panic, but he saw Arthur standing beside the door.

"Francis?" Francis couldn't see Arthur's face, but he heard a waver in Arthur's voice, as if the Englishman had been crying.

Francis let out a shaky sigh, wrapping his arms around himself more tightly. "I-I had a disturbed night…" his own voice was meek and trembling, and Arthur realised that Francis was really shaken up.

Wordlessly, Arthur approached him, embracing Francis lovingly. Francis hugged him back quickly, clinging to him almost desperately as he let out another soft sob. Arthur stroked his hair gently, whispering. "Would you like to stay with me tonight?"

When Francis nodded, Arthur guided him to his bed, slipping under the covers with him and holding him close. Francis nestled against his lover's chest, grateful for his comfort as he closed his eyes, finally relaxing in his arms.

Arthur held him close. He understood that their argument was not resolved, but that did not matter right now. All that mattered was that Arthur was there to comfort Francis, and that Francis still loved Arthur enough to seek comfort from him.

XxX

Alfred heaved a huge sigh. He was bored. His sweet sister was still sleeping peacefully in the bed that was entirely too large for them, and Alfred did not wish to wake her. He rummaged around the bedroom, looking for something to occupy his time, but he found nothing. So he got up on his tiptoes, only just able to reach the doorknob and with a great effort, he managed to heave the large door open. It creaked slightly and Alfred flinched, hoping it was not loud enough to wake Madeline, but when he saw she was still asleep, not stirring, he smiled in relief.

He crept out into the hallway, which was dazzlingly bright compared to the darkness of their bedroom, and Alfred squinted slightly while his eyes adjusted. The servants had been up and busy for at least an hour already, and so the heavy drapes were drawn back from most of the windows in the house, allowing the morning sunlight to illuminate the corridors. Alfred hesitated, seeing the corridors were empty. He was not sure if he was allowed to be out of his room, and while he could not picture Francis scolding him for it, he was afraid the grumpy other gentleman would punish him for it. Still, not seeing anyone there, Alfred crept down the stairs lightly, being careful to hold onto the bannister like Francis had warned him to.

He snuck across the large, empty front hall, his bare feet slipping slightly on the polished marble. He crept down a small, narrow staircase which led to the kitchens, his stomach rumbling in anticipation as he wondered whether he could swipe some food without the cooks noticing. Alfred still had not gotten used to the idea that this house was his home now, and so he did not have to sneak around and steal food. The tantalising smell of the breakfast being prepared made Alfred drool as he was so hungry. He started towards the kitchens, forgetting he was supposed to be wary, and he bumped into Pearce. The butler blinked in surprise, raising an eyebrow at the boy sneaking around still in his nightclothes.

"Master Alfred?"

Alfred froze, afraid of the butler because he looked stern and he towered over the small boy. But Pearce smiled softly.

"I was about to wake you for breakfast, but it seems you are already awake." Pearce gestured to Alfred. "I shall send a maid to dress you before you eat."

The butler called down the hall, and a maid that Alfred recognised as being the same one who had bathed and clothed his sister and him before rushed out of one of the rooms. Alfred was hesitant, unsure of whether he was in trouble or not, but nobody seemed to be chastising him. The maid gently took Alfred's hand, leading him back upstairs to be dressed. All the while she chatted to him happily, and Alfred soon began chatting with her just as eagerly.

XxX

Arthur stroked Francis' hair gently, savouring these few moments. The Frenchman was still asleep, and Arthur knew that once he woke up he would be angry at his lover because of the fight they had had. But for now, Arthur pretended that everything was fine between them, admiring the beauty of the man he loved. He leaned down, gently pressing a kiss to Francis' temple, not wanting to see his peaceful expression crumble into one of hostility towards him. He loved Francis more than anything, and he knew that he had been foolish to dismiss Francis' attempt at forming a family, because he realised how much it meant to the Frenchman. But he was too proud to admit that he was wrong so quickly, so for now he just hoped that Francis' anger towards him would not last too long.

Arthur gently wrapped his arms tighter around Francis, smiling as the Frenchman instinctively snuggled closer to him, nuzzling his face against the Englishman's chest affectionately in his sleep. Arthur's heart ached as he almost wished Francis would not wake up, so he wouldn't have to face Francis' hurt expression and hostility when he awoke. But it was not to last, as all too soon Arthur heard the bustle of servants going about their chores outside, and Francis began to stir.

The Englishman sighed inwardly, gently disentangling himself from his lover and going to bathe and dress himself, so Francis would not feel embarrassed when he woke up. The bathroom door clicked shut just as Francis opened his sparkling blue eyes sleepily, and the Frenchman did not at first remember that any negativity was held between them. But as the stealthy rays of sun that had slipped through the thick curtains now made themselves brighter, the memories of their fight also dawned upon Francis. His heart sank as he resumed feeling torn between the two children and his lover of many years, and he dragged himself out of Arthur's bed, silently retreating back towards his own bedroom.

XxX

Arthur took his time getting ready, feeling a dual sense of relief and sadness as he heard Francis silently leave the bedroom, as he knew that his lover sometimes took a long time to forgive the Englishman for his wrongdoings. He sighed, watching himself in the large, ornate bathroom mirror as he made sure he was presentable, before he finally left the shelter of his bathroom and braced himself for the wrath of Francis.

Arthur was more often than not the first one at the table for breakfast, as Francis was late to rise and spent far longer getting ready than Arthur usually did. But today, the energetic boy and his timid, quieter sister were sat at the large, polished table, with Francis chatting to them happily. The Frenchman's smile faltered slightly as he became aware of Arthur's presence, and the two lovers shared a fleeting glance that told Arthur Francis had not quite decided whether to be angry at him or not. Arthur offered a surrendering smile of apology, and Francis' gaze softened the slightest bit. Francis always struggled to maintain his grudge against Arthur, no matter what it was over, and he accepted Arthur's wordless apology.

Alfred's vigorously energetic conversation drew Francis' attention back to the table, and Arthur non-intrusively took his seat at the head of the table while Alfred talked.

"This house is so big I almost got lost!" Alfred declared, having already bragged about leaving his room and exploring, but his imaginative little mind decided to add a few details. "I walked for miles and miles before I found the kitchen!"

Madeline listened to her brother with wide eyes. She had barely said anything since arriving here, but the adoration she held for her brother was something that did not need explaining. Francis watched with an amused smile as Maddie was clearly hanging on her brother's every word, believing him unquestioningly and imagining the wondrous depths of the house that Alfred must have seen, that she herself had yet to explore.

"It seems you've had a very exciting morning, _mon petit_ ~" Francis cooed, his fondness for the children evident in his beaming smile and gentle tone. Arthur saw how happy being a father made Francis, and he felt a strong pang of guilt at the things he had said the night before, not the last flare of guilt he would feel over the matter.

Alfred nodded and grinned. "Can we show Maddie the house?" Alfred did not want Madeline to miss out on all the excitement of the large house, but Francis knew he wanted to explore as well, if only so he could keep pretending he had already seen it all.

"Of course!" Francis replied confidently, "I can even show you the secret passages~"

Arthur internally rolled his eyes, sipping his tea from a cold china cup as he knew that Francis was referring to the corridors the servants used. Francis had a way of romanticising the most uninteresting of things, but the children seemed to explode with excitement at the prospect. As the two children, mainly Alfred, began babbling rapidly about the adventures they were going to have that day, Arthur finished his tea and stood up, already running a little behind in his routine before work. Francis glanced up at him, offering him another small smile that wished him a good day. The Englishman returned a very small smile, reserved only for Francis and not for the eyes of Alfred or Madeline, before leaving the dining room to fetch his coat in the front hall.

Francis hesitated for a moment, before standing as well and coaxing the children to talk among themselves as he caught up to Arthur.

" _Mon cher_ – "

Arthur paused, turning to look at the Frenchman as he had not expected him to follow.

"Yes?" he responded simply enough, cautious about using endearments towards Francis when the children were close by.

Francis said nothing more, but he leaned in and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Arthur's lips, and when he pulled back, Arthur gave him a smile that was far less reserved than the one before. Francis smiled back, doing up Arthur's coat for him with deft fingers.

"I will be back in time for supper." The Englishman promised as he left the large house, and before he could hear a response from Francis, Pearce had dutifully closed the door behind him.

XxX

It was mid-afternoon by the time Pearce the butler happened upon Francis and the children. The three of them were in the library, cuddled together on a large, beige sofa. Francis was reading aloud from a book of fairytales, one that had been Arthur's favourite as a child. Francis had used to read it to him in order to improve the French teenager's English, and now Francis read it perfectly, even putting on different voices to entertain the children. Madeline was hanging on Francis' every word, watching the movement of his lips as he told the story. She was nestled in the crook of his arm, the warmth from his torso and the freshly stoked fire coaxing her into sleep. Alfred was more intent on examining the artwork: the beautiful illustrations of mystical creatures that only existed in the furthest depths of a child's imagination. Pearce remembered how that very book had not had any illustrations at first, but when Francis arrived, he had drawn those creatures exactly how Arthur imagined them. Francis was still very artistic, preferring to spend his time sketching, painting or possibly noting down small poems that he had come up with, but he never viewed it as anything constructive.

Pearce, from his position in the doorway, watching the small family from a crack in the ajar door, could see the content expression on Francis' features, and reflected upon the times in the library where Francis had been in a state of agony and fear. His thin lips pursed as he remembered cleaning Francis' wounds on more than one occasion after the violent outbursts of Arthur's father, and to this day, Pearce still held a great admiration for Francis' ability to smile despite all that he had been through.

Madeline had fallen asleep now, and Alfred had also sidled up to Francis, before flopping against his chest in a doze. Francis smiled to himself, not bothering to disturb them, and instead he gently put the book aside, before allowing himself to drift off much like the children, his mind still filled with mystical fairies and wondrous lands.

Pearce smiled to himself as he observed them, before fetching a blanket and cautiously entering the library, draping it over the three sleeping figures. None of them so much as stirred.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for not updating in so long, but I finally have a chance to write so ta dah!**

 **Please review and let me know what you think of Pearce's attitude toward Francis, does the fatherly kind of thing work?**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Another Gift (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **This is another flashback chapter that follows on from after the death of Arthur's mother.**

 **Warning: Contains sexy times and also slight underage issues but bearing mind this is set in the Victorian era and their relationship is frowned upon anyway~**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Arthur's sixteenth birthday had been a far less joyous occasion. It was the first birthday he had had since his mother's passing, and his father had shut himself away in his study, drinking and working and sleeping with his cheek against the hard wood of the desk. The only one who seemed to care about it was Francis, who woke Arthur in the morning by jumping on his bed. Despite Francis being now nineteen, he sometimes acted much more like a child than Arthur did. Arthur woke up with a jerk, having been dreaming about the Frenchman, and when his emerald eyes met cerulean ones, a scarlet blush dusted his cheeks.

" _Bon anniversaire, mon cher_!~" Francis chirped happily, half-sat on Arthur's legs so Arthur could only sit up. Arthur was still half-asleep and had no idea what that meant, but he assumed it was related to his birthday, which was today.

"Mm…morning…" Arthur greeted sleepily, his hair ruffled from sleep. Francis' heart fluttered as he appreciated how sweet the English boy looked, and for a moment his thoughts went rampant about kissing him. But he snapped back to reality quickly, beaming and placing a piece of paper in Arthur's lap.

"What is this?" Arthur asked, still sleepy as he unfolded it to see Francis' beautiful swirly script.

"Your birthday present, Arthur!" Francis beamed, but as Arthur read it and his expression did not change, Francis felt his heart sink. Arthur didn't like it. He didn't like the poem that Francis had spent a good few months working on, just for him.

"…Arthur?" Francis ventured after a few minutes, suddenly losing all confidence and fidgeting with his fingers nervously.

But then Arthur smiled, and Francis instantly felt relief wash over him.

"It is beautiful." Arthur complimented, but in truth he had been somewhat disheartened. He had been having a recurring dream for the past few weeks that Francis' present to him would be a kiss, like the Frenchman had given him for his thirteenth birthday, but he could see how much time and thought Francis had put into the poem. He sat up a bit more, hugging the Frenchman gently.

"Thank you, Francis." He mumbled against his shoulder, relishing being so close to him.

Francis blinked but beamed and hugged him back, before pulling away again. "What shall we do today?" There was a spark of excitement in his bright blue eyes, but Arthur sighed.

"I have to study, Francis. I'm a man now, I cannot keep galivanting off with you all the time." His words were not his own, as his father had scolded him about skipping his tutoring sessions a week ago. But still, the words came out harsher than he had intended, and he saw the slight hurt and upset in Francis' expression. The Frenchman quickly smiled to mask it though.

"Ah – of course. Forgive me, _cher_. I shall leave you to your studies, then…" Francis crawled off Arthur's bed, more than a little disheartened, but he knew that Arthur had a lot of pressure to do well in his studies.

"Francis?" Arthur called just as Francis reached the bedroom door.

Francis blinked, turning back. " _Oui, mon cher_?"

"We can spend time together after dinner…" Arthur was trying to cheer up Francis, and the Frenchman smiled in appreciation, nodding.

" _Oui,_ of course we can~"

Arthur smiled, loving to see the Frenchman's beautiful smile, and he felt his heart beat a little faster as he already looked forward to that evening.

XxX

Francis was in his bedroom, which had been reduced to the smallest room that was not part of the servant's quarters, courtesy of Arthur's father. He did not mind though, as he had enough space to create and keep the art he made, and that was all he needed. He carefully controlled the charcoal between his fingers, having discovered he could use it to create art, even if it was messy to use. He was so absorbed in his drawing that he did not even hear Arthur knock softly on his door. Arthur smiled to himself though, as it was not uncommon for Francis to ignore the door when he was drawing, so he just pushed the door open, expecting to see Francis at his desk completely engrossed, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Francis~"

Francis jumped at the sound of his name, whirling around in his rickety, old, wooden chair, but his expression melted into relief and happiness as he realised it was only Arthur.

" _Bonjour, mon cher_ ~" The Frenchman greeted, using a handkerchief to wipe the charcoal off his fingers.

Arthur closed the door behind him, locking it discreetly, before crossing the room to see what Francis had been drawing. Francis did not notice that Arthur had locked the door, but he happily showed him his art. It was of a beautiful fairy, and Francis had used to charcoal to create a smudged shadow in the fairy's wings and hair. The result was astounding, and Arthur almost forgot the real reason he had come to see Francis in the first place, as he was so captivated by the picture.

"It's beautiful, Francis." Arthur breathed, as fairies were some of his favourite mystical creatures.

"Would you like to keep it?" Francis asked with a grin, already knowing that Arthur wanted it framed on his wall.

Arthur nodded, his emerald eyes sparkling with the imagination his father had not quite been able to suppress.

"It can be another gift from me, then~" Francis chuckled, neatly signing his name in the bottom corner of the paper.

This made Arthur remember why he had come here, and he wet his lips slightly nervously. "…I-I want something else from you, as well."

Francis blinked. "You do?" He arched one eyebrow, noticing Arthur shift from one foot to the other which gave away his nervousness. "What is it?" he ventured cautiously, wondering what on earth Arthur could possibly want from him now.

Arthur swallowed. "A-A kiss – like the one you gave me when I was thirteen."

Francis paused, his eyes widening as he thought – hoped – that Arthur had forgotten about that kiss. But he hadn't.

"But – But you said…" Francis trailed off, remembering how Arthur had shouted at him that he was living in sin, and he had promised never to do it again.

"I know what I said…" Arthur mumbled, scarlet dusting his cheeks again as he looked down at his feet. He was too embarrassed to make eye-contact with Francis, and he swallowed again nervously. "But…I was wrong." He gave a small shrug of his shoulders.

Francis stared at him, not knowing what to think or do. He desperately wanted to kiss Arthur again – he had wanted to for years – but what if someone found out? Francis didn't want Arthur to get into trouble, but the more he thought about it, the more he just wanted to risk it all.

It was worth it.

Arthur was getting very flustered and he began to ramble about how no one needed to know, and he was staring at the floor so intently that he didn't realise Francis was now standing in front of him. He gasped softly as Francis gently cupped his chin with one hand, and his emerald eyes widened as Francis' soft lips made contact with his own. Arthur's eyelids fluttered closed and he hesitantly placed his hands against Francis' white shirt, but all too soon Francis was pulling back again.

Arthur instantly missed the feeling of the Frenchman's soft lips against his own, and just as Francis was about to break the silence that had formed between them, Arthur grabbed Francis by the shirt and pulled him close, crashing their lips together again.

" _Mmph_!" Francis let out a noise of surprise, especially at how rough Arthur suddenly was, but he melted into the kiss, kissing him back more deeply this time. His arms snaked around Arthur's waist and Arthur ran his fingers through Francis' golden locks, pulling him even closer. Francis lost himself in the kiss, his tongue gently probing Arthur's lower lip, and when Arthur instinctively parted his lips for him, Francis slipped his tongue into Arthur's mouth, deepening the kiss further. A soft moan came from one of them, Francis wasn't really sure who, but it didn't matter.

Arthur felt something come alive inside him, and although he had had feelings for Francis before, now he really _wanted_ him. Francis wanted Arthur too, but he forced himself to pull back, albeit reluctantly.

"A-Arthur…- " Francis was slightly short of breath from the kiss, and he took a few moments to compose himself, before straightening up. " _Mon cher_ , we shouldn't do this…"

Arthur opened his eyes, frowning at Francis' words. "W-Why not? Why can't we?"

The slightly hurt tone in Arthur's words made Francis hesitate, and he sighed softly. "We would both get in trouble if anyone finds out – "

"So they won't find out." Arthur finished for him, a fierce determination gleaming in his eyes.

"But Arthur – "

"Do you want to do this?" Arthur asked flatly, and Francis paused, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

"I – _Oui_ , I do…" he confessed, lowering his cerulean gaze slightly.

At this, Arthur smiled softly. "So why did you stop?" he asked gently, and Francis hesitated again, finally meeting his gaze, and that was all it took.

Francis had been waiting for years, and now Arthur was finally willing to be his.

The Frenchman smiled, before softly kissing Arthur again, gently holding him close. It didn't stay gentle for long, however, as Arthur pressed closer to Francis, acting on instinct. Arthur suddenly felt Francis' bed underneath him, as he was s caught up in the kiss that he didn't notice Francis coaxing him backwards. Now the Frenchman was on top of him, kissing along his jaw gently but there was a sense of desperation in his touch, as if he had been waiting for this for a long time. Arthur mewled as he arched into his touch, feeling Francis' cold fingers slip under his shirt and touch his warm skin.

Francis began undoing Arthur's shirt, letting it slide of the English boy's shoulders to expose the pale, unmarked skin beneath. He leaned down, kissing every inch of Arthur's exposed skin, fully appreciating him. Arthur let out a soft giggle as Francis' stubble tickled his chest, but the giggles turned into soft moans as Francis continued lower, his gaze becoming half-lidded.

"F-Francis…- " Arthur tangled a hand gently in Francis' long hair, but Francis noticed his fingers were trembling slightly, and he looked up.

"What is it, _cher_?" his voice was low and soft, but his tone was concerned.

Arthur blushed darkly, but he nibbled his lower lip nervously. "…Will it hurt?"

The simple question suddenly reminded Francis of Arthur's innocence. He was only sixteen, and Francis already wanted to claim him. He hesitated, before slowly nodding.

" _Oui_ , it will at first…but I'll be as gentle as I can." Arthur still looked nervous at his response, so Francis moved up and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. "We can stop – you do not have to do this…"

At the thought of stopping completely, Arthur shook his head. "No, I-I want to." He said decisively.

Francis regarded him for a moment, uncertain that Arthur really meant it. "Are you certain, _mon cher?"_

Arthur looked into Francis' beautiful cerulean eyes and had never felt safer. He nodded. "Yes – you're the only one I would trust to do this…"

At this, Francis gave a soft smile, nodding as he shifted above him. "I promise I will be gentle. But if I hurt you, you must tell me _, oui_?"

Arthur nodded again, and now he wasn't so nervous, but instead he was slightly frustrated. He desired Francis and being so close to him without actually having him was aggravating to Arthur. Francis sensed his frustration and chuckled softly, before removing the rest of Arthur's garments until he was completely exposed. Arthur's cheeks flushed a dark red at this, but he responded by tugging Francis' shirt over his head impatiently. Soon enough Francis too was naked and he pressed against Arthur, moving their bodies together gently, which earned him a soft moan from Arthur. He smiled, kissing along Arthur's collarbone as he gently spread Arthur's legs. Whilst Arthur was sufficiently distracted, Francis gently slipped one finger into him, making Arthur suddenly tense and hiss in pain. The Frenchman soothed him with soft kisses and murmuring French nothings in his ear, and as he relaxed, Francis gently stretched him, adding a second and third finger when he deemed Arthur ready for them.

Arthur had tears in the corners of his eyes as the feeling was alien and unpleasant to him, but it was beginning to feel a bit better. However, Francis removed his fingers just as Arthur was getting more adjusted to them, and he let out a soft whimper at the sudden loss. Francis only smiled, warning him of what he was about to do. Arthur nodded and laid back against Francis' bed, trying to relax his body again. Francis wished he could make this easier for Arthur, but due to the secretive nature of this encounter, he had nothing. The Frenchman suddenly felt nervous himself, not wanting to hurt Arthur, and he met the English boy's gaze hesitantly, but Arthur only smiled at him, giving a small nod of permission.

Francis returned the nod, taking a breath before slowly and gently pushing into Arthur. Instantly, Arthur's face contorted into one of pain and he winced, his eyes squeezing shut. Francis felt panic course through him and he stayed still, knowing that pulling out would be even more painful for him. Instead, he leaned over and gently kissed Arthur, hoping it would relieve some of the pain, or at least distract him so he could adjust.

"Relax _, mon amour_ …" Francis mumbled softly against Arthur's lips, gently kissing away the stray tears that had slipped down Arthur's cheeks. After a few minutes, Francis finally felt Arthur adjusting to him, and Arthur shifted experimentally, before nodding slowly.

"I-I'm ready…" he almost whispered, a tremor of anticipation in his voice as he wanted Francis so badly.

Francis smiled, gently kissing him once more before humming softly. "Remember, we must be quiet, _oui_?"

Arthur blushed, nodding as he thought it would be simple to stay quiet. But when Francis entered him he almost screamed in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and Francis widened his eyes, thinking he had hurt Arthur. But the English boy's sudden scream melted into a loud moan, and he clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. Francis smiled in relief, slowly beginning to thrust into Arthur, studying his face carefully as he did for any signs of discomfort. But Arthur was already getting lost in the pleasure, throwing his head back and even pushing back against Francis a little eagerly. Francis grinned as he quickened his pace, not daring to be any rougher though as he was still afraid of injuring the boy.

As Francis went faster, Arthur wrapped his arms around the Frenchman's neck, tugging him down and kissing him hard and sloppily. Francis lost his rhythm slightly as Arthur kissed him, but the kiss worked well in muffling their sounds of pleasure. All at once, Arthur felt a hot sensation in his groin and he knew it meant he was close to release. He pulled back from the kiss, trying to tell Francis before he did, but suddenly he released hard over his and Francis' chests, letting out a scream that Francis managed to muffle with another kiss. Arthur felt like he was flying for a moment, lost in ecstasy and he didn't even feel Francis moving in him for a moment, before he suddenly felt Francis release inside him, and he let out another moan at the strange but not unpleasant feeling. Francis let out a groan, burying his face in the crook of Arthur's neck to muffle it as they rode out their orgasms.

Arthur fell back against the bed, a lazy and content smile on his features. He was vaguely aware of Francis pulling out of him, and he reached up for the Frenchman. Francis smiled, lying down beside Arthur and wrapping his arms around him, kissing him softly and sweetly. Arthur smiled against his lips, having never felt so happy and alive. He snuggled into Francis' embrace, tangling their legs together and getting as close to the Frenchman as he could.

Francis smiled, playing with Arthur's hair softly. " _Bon anniversaire, amour_ ~" he whispered against Arthur's hair, and the English boy smiled sleepily, mumbling something in response as he drifted into sleep. Francis held him close, feeling so happy that he finally had Arthur, but there was also an underlying fear and dread that someone would find out. He fell asleep after a while, but it was restless and filled with nightmares of people finding out about Arthur and him. These same nightmares plagued him every time he slept with Arthur for weeks.

* * *

 **A/N: So this was my first proper attempt at writing some smut so please review to let me know how I did!**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	7. Weak And Shameful (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter contains a sex scene!**

 **Please enjoy~**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

Francis was not upset when Arthur's father had taken ill. By this point, Arthur had become a very handsome, intelligent young man, but he was still oblivious to the abuse that his father had subjected Francis to. The violence had occurred almost every night for over a year, and even though the beatings became more spread out, some had almost killed the Frenchman. But still, Francis had managed to keep it a secret from Arthur, and the Englishman had grown up to love his father, unaware of the monster within the man.

Arthur sat by his father's bedside loyally, listening to the parting instructions his father was giving him about the company Arthur would inherit, and about being the head of the household. Francis hovered inside the doorway, not wanting to encroach on Arthur's final moments with his father. The dying man had become fat and even more ill-tempered the older he became, and now, even as his body was weak, there was a hatred in his eyes as strong and fierce as fire when his gaze fell upon Francis. The Frenchman felt the heat of his gaze and looked down at his feet, as the man still struck fear in Francis' heart.

Satisfied with Francis' timid response, Arthur's father returned his attention to his son, his voice hoarse and strained as it would not be long now before his time was up.

"Do not be corrupted by the evils of this world, my son." Arthur only nodded, missing the underlying implication that Francis was one of these evils. "They can ruin good men like you. Make them weak, make them shameful."

Francis frowned softly. He knew that Arthur's father had sensed the 'corruption' within Francis, as he had condemned him to hell on one night when he had beaten Francis to within an inch of his life. He had warned Francis not to corrupt his precious son with the sins of sodomy, and Francis had never been so afraid that the man would kill him.

Arthur only nodded again, veiled to the contempt Arthur's father had for Francis. "I will make you proud, father. I will be a good man, just like you."

At this, Francis felt his heart stop for a moment. He made an internal vow to never let Arthur turn out like his father; he would never let Arthur become such a monster.

Arthur's father sighed, his last breath escaping past his lips, and then he was still. Arthur did not weep, for his father had told him it was a sign of weakness to ever show emotion so freely.

Pearce draped a white sheet over Arthur's father's face solemnly, murmuring his condolences to Arthur. Arthur was stony-faced, his emerald eyes cold and unreadable. Francis wanted so badly to comfort him, having fallen in love with him so long ago, but all these years he had tried to hide it. But Arthur simply stood, kissing the knuckles of the now dead man, before letting go of his hand and leaving the room. As he passed by Francis, he did not spare him one glance.

The coldness of Arthur towards Francis was like an icicle straight through his heart, and Francis bowed his head. Arthur had been a lot younger when his mother had passed, and had happily accepted Francis' comfort. But now Francis was confronted with an Arthur who had been exposed to the guidance of his father alone, and he had become emotionless and stern. Francis did not know how to comfort him anymore; the magical child had died, and the stoic, reserved man was only a shell of the Arthur Francis was familiar with.

Still, the Frenchman would not abandon the man he loved in his time of grieving, so he hesitantly made his way to Arthur's study, knocking softly on the door. There was a mumble of response which Francis took as granting entrance, so he entered the room. Arthur was sat at his desk filling out the paperwork that his father had previously done.

"Arthur?"

"What is it, Francis?" the Englishman said not unkindly, but his tone was somewhat irritated, as if he was annoyed at the Frenchman's intrusion.

Francis hesitated, his voice soft and cautious. "You don't need to do that right away, _mon cher_. It can wait while you – "

"I have time to do it now, so why shouldn't I?" Arthur snapped, not looking at Francis and still focusing on the paperwork.

Francis paused, shocked. Arthur's father had just passed away, and Arthur was already carrying on his work, not even taking time out to grieve. "Because…your father just – "

Arthur cut him off with an irritated sigh. "As you can see, Francis, I have work to do. So if you wouldn't mind getting out of my study..."

The Frenchman was taken aback by the harshness of Arthur's tone. Arthur had never been so cold to him, and Francis understood that Arthur had just lost his father, but this was so uncharacteristic for the usually gentle and kind Englishman.

"… _Mon cher_ …" he took a few steps closer to Arthur, hoping that comforting him would loosen Arthur up, but as soon as he placed a gentle hand on Arthur's shoulder, it was harshly batted away.

"Get out, I said!" Arthur shouted at him. Arthur had only shouted at him once before, when he was thirteen and Francis had kissed him for the first time. Francis flinched, before quickly retreating from the study, his eyes filling with tears.

XxX

Francis had not emerged from his bedroom for the rest of the day, hearing the cluster of footsteps pass by his locked door which suggested the body of Arthur's father was being carried down the stairs. Francis paid it no mind, still upset with Arthur, so he immersed himself in drawing, as it usually never failed to cheer him up. But no matter what he drew, he only became frustrated when his hands were shaking or the pencils were blunt and he could not create the masterpieces he was usually able to. Eventually, the distraught Frenchman gave up, throwing his pencil down so hard it snapped in half. He curled up in his bed, sobbing silently and burying his face in his soft, plush pillows until they were damp with his tears.

It was past midnight when a soft knock sounded at Francis' door, and when he didn't respond at first, the door handle was tried, but Francis had locked it.

"Francis…" Arthur's voice called softly through the door, sounding nothing like the hostile man who had shouted at Francis before. He sounded much more like the Arthur Francis knew and loved. "Francis, open the door, please…"

Francis sniffed, wiping his eyes with trembling hands, before slowly dragging himself out of bed. He was in his nightclothes and his hair was mussed from being curled up in bed. It looked as if he had just woken up, however Francis had not been able to get a moment of sleep. He shakily turned the key in the lock, hesitantly heaving the door open fully, to reveal a very sheepish-looking Arthur. His cheeks were slightly pink and Francis guessed that he had not long been outside in the cold, and he spotted a freshly picked red rose in the Englishman's hand which would explain his outdoor adventure in the middle of the night. Arthur's tie was loosened and his hair was slightly scruffy, and his eyes were slightly puffy. Francis realised that Arthur must have broken down in tears at some point, and his heart ached for him.

"I'm so sorry, love." Arthur said softly, offering the beautiful rose to Francis. The Frenchman smiled softly and a little wobbly; roses were his favourite. He gracefully accepted the rose, his other hand reaching for Arthur's and he coaxed him inside his bedroom, pushing the door closed behind the Englishman.

When Francis didn't say anything, Arthur began to ramble his apologies, something he always did when he felt terribly guilty and remorseful. "I-I didn't mean to shout at you, or shove you away like that. You didn't deserve it, and I know you were only trying to – "

Francis smiled softly, quietening his rambling with a chaste kiss, which stopped Arthur in his tracks as he whispered: "I forgive you, _mon cher_. I'm sorry I wasn't there to comfort you…"

Arthur smiled softly, before resting his head against Francis' shoulder, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Francis wrapped his arms around him gently, stroking his hair affectionately. The Frenchman smiled softly, whispering against Arthur's ear gently.

"You're the master of the household now, _amour_. You do not need to apologise to me~"

Francis' words made Arthur pull back slightly, and he placed one cold hand on Francis' warm cheek, rubbing it gently and tracing the defined line of his cheekbone. "Of course I do. My behaviour was uncalled for and I upset you." Arthur cupped Francis' face gently, kissing him softly but lovingly, and he smiled slightly when he felt Francis melt into the kiss. He pulled back just enough to mumble against Francis' lips. "Let me make it up to you…~"

Francis paused, looking up at him with sparkling cerulean eyes, not missing the mischievous glint in Arthur's emerald gaze. "How?" The Frenchman asked softly, but Arthur only responded by kissing him again, more passionately this time. Francis hummed slightly in surprise but he quickly kissed him back, attempting to be the dominant one as he had always been, but Arthur had other ideas. He reached around, groping Francis' ass and smirking in triumph when Francis let out a gasp in surprise. He took advantage of the gasp to slip his tongue into Francis' mouth, tangling their tongues together and quickly defeating Francis' feeble attempts to regain dominance. He had never been so dominant with Francis before, but he could tell the Frenchman was loving every moment of it.

Arthur gently pressed against Francis, backing him up against the bed until Francis lost his balance and fell back onto the soft bed, squeaking softly in surprise. Arthur chuckled, leaning over him and kissing him again more roughly as he fumbled with the strings of Francis' nightshirt, ripping it slightly in his eager haste to remove the offending item. Francis let out a soft moan as Arthur's possessive fingers trailed over his chest, arching into his touch just as eagerly.

Arthur grinned, pulling back from the kiss and taking a moment to observe Francis' lustful eyes and tousled hair. The Englishman decided that he liked Francis' longing gaze and the desperation his body portrayed as he reached up for him again.

Arthur felt a sense of determination that he hadn't before, but now he realised he wanted to make Francis his. He was the master of this house and everything in it now, and he wanted to claim Francis most of all.

Francis gasped and groaned in pleasure as Arthur moved over him, sucking and biting the soft, sensitive skin of his neck to leave a dark love-bite. The Frenchman smiled and tilted his head to allow Arthur better access, enjoying Arthur's possessive touch.

" _M-Mon cher_ …- "

"You're mine." Arthur cut him off with such a possessive tone that he almost growled the words. Francis felt a shiver travel down his spine at this, and he grinned.

"Am I?" he decided to tease Arthur slightly, hoping that Arthur's reaction would be pleasurable. "I do not remember you asking me to marry you, amour." He smirked, purring the words and he saw Arthur's eyes flash.

"Oh no, I'm going to claim you in a way you will never forget~" The Englishman purred back, and Francis felt a flutter of excitement as Arthur's gaze became far more predatory and possessive.

Francis grinned again. "Do you promise?~"

Arthur did not voice his response, but instead he practically pounced on Francis, pinning his arms to the bed by holding his wrists tightly. He was rather strong – far stronger than Francis, at least – and when the Frenchman struggled, Arthur held him easily, an undying smirk on his handsome features. Francis felt his trousers tighten at Arthur's dominance, and he let out a low moan as Arthur kissed and sucked his neck and collarbone, marking him harshly with angry dark hickeys. Arthur let go of his wrists as he moved lower down the Frenchman's body, and Francis reached up one hand to tangle in Arthur's unruly blonde hair, his slender fingers tugging the hair slightly which earned him a growl from the Englishman. Arthur worked Francis' trousers down past his hips and onto the floor, before pressing gentle but firm kisses over Francis' hips and thighs, purposefully ignoring the area that needed the most attention.

Francis whimpered, bucking his hips slightly. "A-Arthur…!" he complained, but Arthur ignored him with a smirk, instead pulling back and standing up, slowly beginning to undress. Francis whined at this, before sitting up and helping him, slipping his tie off and then tugging at his shirt impatiently.

"My my, you're very impatient, Francis." Arthur purred with a smirk, amused at the man who had once made Arthur beg for him, who was now practically tearing the clothes from the Englishman's body because he was so desperate for him.

Francis narrowed his eyes slightly, not liking to be teased so much, but he finally rid Arthur of the rest of his clothes, before grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling Arthur over him on the bed.

Arthur grinned as Francis willingly spread his legs. "P-Please, amour…."

Suddenly his father flashed in his mind _: 'Makes them weak, makes them shameful…'_

Francis had always been weak, and Arthur's father had known it. Now Arthur was beginning to see it too. His father was right, but Arthur wasn't going to let himself become weak and shameful as well. His eyes darkened slightly as he vowed to himself to be strong and ruthless, as he was the master of the household now – he had to be.

"…Arthur?" Francis had noticed Arthur's silence, and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable at how much Arthur was neglecting his aroused body.

Arthur blinked, remembering what he had been about to do and a smirk appeared on his features, as he pressed his fingers to Francis' lips, his stare making Francis aware of what he wanted him to do. Arthur groaned as Francis gently took Arthur's fingers into his mouth, running his skilled tongue over and between them to coat them with saliva. When Arthur was satisfied, he removed his fingers from his mouth, and slid the first finger into Francis' entrance gently.

Francis let out a hiss, whining softly as Arthur had never entered him before, so he was very tight, but Arthur did not allow him to adjust for too long before he added the other fingers. Francis winced in pain, biting his lip as he could tell Arthur was impatient and he knew it would hurt, but he did not complain.

All too soon, Arthur removed his fingers and without warning he entered Francis fully. The Frenchman gasped and let out a scream of pain, tightening around him as he had not been prepared properly, and had Arthur been in a better state of mind, he would have eased up on his French lover. But the words 'weak' and 'shameful' kept plaguing his mind, and he was eager to show his strength and dominance.

He began thrusting, his hands clutching Francis' hips tightly as he did. Francis trembled in pain, his expression pained and he reached up to grab Arthur's shoulders.

" _M-Mon cher_ – be gentle…!" he breathed, panting softly.

Arthur hesitated, nodding and loosening his grip on the Frenchman, placing soothing kisses over his chest as he thrusted slowly, until he felt Francis relax and heard his moans.

Gradually, he began to build up his pace, becoming a little rougher with each thrust. Francis moaned beneath him, digging his nails into his shoulders slightly at the pleasure.

 _Weak._

Arthur began to hold Francis' hips more tightly.

 _Shameful._

His expression darkened again and suddenly he thrusted a lot harder and deeper into Francis, earning a scream of pain and pleasure.

 _Weak._

"A-Arthur!" Francis screamed, overcome with pleasure but it was starting to get painful again for him. Arthur didn't respond, his expression dark and his eyes unseeing.

 _Shameful._

Arthur had so much tension and stress from the expectations people had on him and from his father's death, and he was taking it out on Francis unknowingly.

 _Weak._

Francis let out a sob, as now the pleasure was overpowered by the pain as he tried to get Arthur to be gentler. "Arthur, _non_!"

 _Shameful._

Arthur felt a warmth in his lower regions, and without warning he released hard inside Francis, not realising that Francis was crying and bleeding.

 _Weak._

He pulled out, panting, only now noticing that his lover was sobbing, and his expression melted into one of concern. "…Francis?"

Francis was shaking, the agony slowly being numbed as purple bruises began to form on his hips and inner thighs. He felt like he couldn't move, and Arthur had never been so rough.

Arthur felt a deep pang of guilt as he realised he had hurt the Frenchman, and he gently reached out to comfort Francis. "Oh, love…I-I didn't mean to – "

Francis found the strength to shift and begin sitting up, but then pain exploded in his lower half, and he went pale as the bedsheets had drops of crimson blood on them. Arthur saw this too, and his heart clenched.

Arthur trembled, climbing off Francis and sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, mumbling 'oh God' over and over to himself. Francis' expression softened as he knew Arthur hadn't intended to hurt him. Slowly and carefully, Francis moved behind Arthur, taking his hands away from his face and kissing the back of his neck and his earlobes gently. Arthur let out a groan of self-loathing and regret, but he leaned back against Francis' chest gently.

Francis smiled softly. "I'm alright, see?" he was used to hiding pain from Arthur due to all the beatings he had received from his lover's father, and now he smiled to conceal it, already forgiving him with the haste that came with loving someone.

Arthur sobbed softly, feeling terrible for being so rough with the most precious person in his life. He reached up and gently cupped Francis' face, kissing him as softly and gently as he could. Francis smiled and kissed him back, cuddled against his back. When they pulled back, Francis gently coaxed Arthur to lie down with him, and Arthur gently wrapped his arms around Francis' slightly shaking body.

Francis smiled and cuddled against his chest. "Everything will be alright, _amour…_ " he whispered, and Arthur paused, before nodding gently and kissing the top of Francis' head gently.

Soon Francis drifted into sleep as the pain had numbed now, but Arthur stayed awake, plagued by his guilt and the ever-increasing pressure that would now be put on him since his father's passing. He just thanked God that his lover was so forgiving, even when Arthur knew he didn't deserve it.

* * *

 **A/N: so Arthur has been more influenced by his father than Francis had originally thought. Do you think Francis was right to forgive him?**

 **Please review and let me know what you think!**


	8. If You'll Have Me (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: Another sex scene is in this chapter! Please enjoy~**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Arthur sighed heavily as he handed his coat to Pearce, the weariness of his day hitting him all at once. He had had a long, stressful day at work, and he wanted more than anything to go to bed with Francis in his arms after a hot dinner.

"Good evening, Pearce." His tone was tired but friendly enough, and Pearce nodded, hanging his coat up for him.

"Good evening, Master Kirkland."

"Have they eaten supper yet?" he ran a cold hand through his hair, making it slightly unruly as he also loosened his tie, relieved to be in the comfort of his own home.

"They are dining at the moment, sir. I have laid a place for you." Pearce knew Arthur never liked to miss supper if he could help it.

Arthur nodded in approval, crossing the front hall and hearing the clacking of his polished shoes against the clean marble floor. As he approached the dining room doors, he could hear laughter and happy conversation inside, and he smiled slightly to himself. Pearce followed him, opening the double doors for him efficiently, and Arthur entered the room with a soft, but reserved smile.

Francis had Madeline on his lap, while Alfred was standing on his chair. The three had apparently waited for Arthur to join them before they ate, and Francis looked up as Arthur entered, offering him a small smile in return. Alfred paused mid-conversation, still unsure about the stern Englishman as he still viewed him as a grumpy old man. Madeline also looked up, and Arthur noticed that she already looked healthier and had more colour in her cheeks, and she gave him a bright smile that melted Arthur's heart.

Arthur took his seat at the head of the table, giving a small nod to the children in greeting as the servants brought their food to them. Pearce was at Arthur's side, expertly pouring a rich, red wine into his glass, before doing the same for Francis. Francis smiled, thanking Pearce as if it was his first glass, but Arthur knew his lover far too well, guessing that Pearce had probably been topping up the Frenchman's glass for most of the evening.

Alfred watched Pearce pour the wine with curiosity, also asking for some. Arthur raised an eyebrow but Francis only chuckled, allowing the child to sip from his wine glass. Alfred took a big sip, but instantly regretted it as his face screwed up in disgust. Francis let out a laugh of amusement at this; his laugh had never failed to awaken the butterflies in Arthur's stomach, and now he felt a flutter at the sound as he sipped his own wine. Madeline giggled as well, shaking her head when Francis asked if she would also like to try some wine.

The four of them shared supper together, Alfred having a big portion which he could only eat half of, and Madeline picking at the tiny portion Francis had dished up for her. Arthur watched them, knowing that Francis worried about how weak and small Madeline was, but she was steadily getting stronger and putting on a little bit of weight, thanks to Francis' nurturing.

Arthur sipped his wine, quietly eating his dinner as he listened to Alfred chatting about what the three of them had done that day. He paused when Alfred mentioned the book of fairytales that had once belonged to him, and he looked at Francis in accusation. Francis had only shrugged and smiled, and Arthur rolled his eyes, forgiving him quickly. He went back to eating, thinking about his plans for the rest of the day, when Francis spoke, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"I thought it would be nice for the four of us to take a walk after supper." The Frenchman suggested, wiping Alfred's mouth gently as he had made a mess already. Arthur hesitated – he and Francis used to take walks together a lot, relishing in each other's company, but it would be different with the children. Francis noticed the small frown that had appeared on Arthur's features, and his face fell as he remembered Arthur saying he wanted nothing to do with their family. "…Or, we could – "

"That sounds lovely." Arthur interjected, as his intent was to accept Francis' family as his own, not wanting another fight or for them to become distant.

Francis blinked, but a bright, beautiful smile appeared on his features. "It does?"

Arthur nodded. "Make sure the children wrap up warm, though. It is cold tonight." His tone was firm and authoritative, but Francis beamed.

Alfred furrowed his brows in confusion, not knowing why Francis was so excited about going for a walk, but Madeline, who had always been more perceptive than her brother, smiled softly.

XxX

"Alfred, stop wriggling, _mon petit_ ~" Francis was trying to put a big, thick coat on the boy, who found it uncomfortable.

"I don't want to wear it!" he whined, his big blue eyes staring up at Francis and making him feel like a villain for trying to keep Alfred warm.

Francis sighed. "I do not want you catching a cold, _mon chéri…"_ he sighed again in exasperation as Alfred kept pulling out of his grasp, one arm in the sleeve of the coat, but he was fighting against the entrapment of his other arm. Madeline was sat on their bed with her equally big coat on, her violet eyes not hiding her amusement. She had not put up a fight, but she knew her brother would definitely kick and scream about such a trivial thing.

Arthur appeared in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at the scene and smirking slightly. Unfortunately, Francis caught him smirking and glared at him. "If you think this is so easy, _mon cher_ , why don't you do it?" he challenged, the pet name containing a small bite of harshness, and Arthur blinked.

"Pardon?" he wiped the smirk off his face quickly, but he sighed and came over, crouching in front of Alfred, who suddenly froze at the presence of the stern gentleman. "Now Alfred, will you put your coat on please?" his tone was firm, too firm, and Alfred suddenly thought he was in trouble. Tears welled in the boy's baby-blue eyes and he pouted, stubbornly looking away from Arthur.

"No." he mumbled, trying to cross his arms in defiance, which was difficult when he was half in and half out of his coat.

"Alfred – " Arthur began, about to scold him when Francis looked at him pointedly, silently telling him to not be so harsh. The Englishman sighed, retreating.

"I give up." He conceded, backing away so that Francis could take over again. The Frenchman shot him a look of disappointment but also triumph, a smirk of his own appearing this time, but he found Alfred was much more compliant to Francis now that Arthur had unknowingly scolded him. Alfred allowed Francis to put his coat on him properly, and when he was finished, he kissed the boy's forehead.

" _Merci_ , Alfred. That was not so bad now, _oui_?" Alfred only nodded, still pouting as he didn't like to be told off. Francis chuckled, taking his tiny hand gently and walking with him downstairs. Arthur hesitated, glancing at Madeline who looked expectantly up at him. Arthur blushed faintly, knowing the girl was probably not strong enough to walk on her own yet, so he awkwardly picked her up, being gentle but it was clear he was inexperienced. Still, Madeline smiled and clutched his shirt, and Arthur found a comfortable way of holding her on his hip, carrying her downstairs feeling more relaxed and capable than before.

Francis and Alfred were waiting for them in the front hall, and Francis bit back a smile as he saw Arthur holding Madeline. Pearce opened the door for them, his expression unreadable, although Arthur knew he found this amusing.

"We shan't be long, Pearce." Arthur mumbled, trying to sound authoritative still, and Pearce only nodded.

"Of course, sir. I shall wait up for you."

The four of them stepped out onto the damp cobblestones of the street. The sky was dark, and there was little light from the candles in the streetlamps. Arthur held Maddie closer, instinctively protective of her, and he rubbed her back gently when he felt her shiver against his chest. Francis held Alfred's hand, chatting with him happily. Alfred had cheered up quickly, pulling Francis down the street eagerly whenever he saw something of an interest. Francis laughed lightly, chastising him light-heartedly, as he didn't have the heart to tell him to calm down.

Arthur rolled his eyes externally, but internally he found it endearing how happy Francis seemed. Alfred gasped and pointed in excitement as he spotted a horse and carriage, stationary as it was about to retire for the night. The horse that pulled it was white and speckled, well highlighted in the dim evening light. Francis smiled, leading Alfred over so he could stroke the horse gently. The carriage driver scowled at first, but he soon just shrugged and went around to the back of the carriage to finish packing up for the evening. Alfred giggled as the horse nuzzled his hand in curiosity, but when Arthur began to approach the horse, Madeline let out a squeak of fear and hid her face in his shirt. Arthur's expression softened and he smiled.

"He's not going to hurt you, Madeline…" the Englishman promised softly, and Madeline peered at the horse from the safety of Arthur's embrace.

"Look, Maddie!" Alfred beamed, petting the horse's nose gently. At her brother's encouragement, Madeline relaxed a little and reached out to touch the horse, but it whinnied, instantly making her retreat in fear.

"He won't hurt you, miss." Called a young but obnoxious, accented voice. Arthur blinked, having not noticed the young boy, only a few years older than the twins, standing and holding the horse's reigns. The boy had unnaturally white hair and piercing red eyes, and Arthur frowned at him. But Madeline seemed to relax again at the foreign boy's words, cautiously touching the horse's nose with trembling fingers. The boy grinned up at her, but before he could sa anything else, Arthur pulled Madeline away, glaring at the boy to put him in his place.

Francis and Alfred had continued walking, and Arthur hurried to catch up with them, not noticing that Madeline was peeking over his shoulder, staring at the mysterious boy with red eyes and smiling softly.

XxX

" _Bon nuit, mes petits_." Francis whispered as he tucked the two children into bed, kissing their foreheads in turn. Madeline had fallen asleep during the walk, and Alfred had been fighting to stay awake, finally falling asleep as soon as Francis had gotten him changed into his nightclothes.

Arthur stood in the doorway silently, watching Francis fawn over his children and feeling a burst of longing. Francis didn't know that the Englishman was there, and Arthur retreated to Francis' bedroom by the time the Frenchman turned around. Francis smiled and closed the children's bedroom door softly, before retiring to his own room. He hesitated as he saw Arthur waiting for him, and he suddenly felt a little nervous, wondering if Arthur would complain about Francis dragging him into his family life unwillingly.

Arthur smiled softly though, gently taking Francis' hand. "I know it's late, and you're tired, but…" he wet his lips slightly, feeling a little nervous himself. "I just wanted to apologise for insulting your family."

Francis blinked in surprise, a small smile gracing his features, but he allowed Arthur to continue.

"I was afraid that if you had a family of your own, you wouldn't…have as much time to love me…" the Englishman admitted quietly, feeling foolish and a blush dusted his cheeks. "But, I realise now that it was foolish to think such a thing, especially when you wanted me to be part of your family."

Francis' smile grew and he rubbed Arthur's knuckles gently in encouragement.

"So…I just wanted to say I am truly sorry for trying to make you choose between me and the children. And I wanted to ask…if you still had room in your family for one more?"

Francis blinked, and chuckled softly. "Do you mean you want to be part of my 'delusional' family?" Arthur blushed when Francis quoted his own outburst, but he nodded, smiling sheepishly.

"If you'll have me." Francis' smile widened so far that it lit up his face brilliantly, and in response he pressed a soft kiss to Arthur's lips.

"Of course, _amour_ ~" he purred, and Arthur smiled in relief, feeling a flutter of happiness as he wrapped one arm around his waist, the other gently cupping the Frenchman's face as he kissed him again. Francis responded eagerly, throwing his arms around his lover's neck gleefully as he was so glad that Arthur wanted to be part of the family that had formed.

Arthur hummed softly into the kiss, realising absently that he and Francis had not made love since the first night that the children had stayed with them, and he missed the feeling of it. He pulled Francis closer, deepening the kiss lovingly and sliding his tongue past Francis' lips. Francis let out a soft moan as their tongues tangled together, reaching up to grasp Arthur's unruly blonde hair and tugging it gently.

Arthur smiled against his lips, his fingers quickly relieving Francis of his shirt with practiced ease, only breaking the kiss to pull it over his head before claiming his lips hungrily again. His hands travelled over Francis' chest appreciatively, running over his torso and back possessively. Francis arched into his touch, loving every ounce of affection from his English lover. Francis broke the kiss to breathe, panting raggedly as Arthur had a way of stealing his breath. Arthur grinned, leaning down to kiss Francis' jaw, before placing rougher kisses over his neck. Francis loved how possessive Arthur was, relieved that he had also learned how to be gentle and considerate, no longer hurting Francis too much when he made love to him, unlike the first time Arthur had dominated him. Francis gasped suddenly as he had been distracted recalling the first time Arthur made love to him, that he didn't realise Arthur was making quick work of his trousers, cupping his crotch teasingly as he pulling his trousers down.

Francis whined softly, hating to be teased but loving it at the same time.

"A-Arthur – "

"Shhh, love…" Arthur purred, his tone seductive and his voice deep, knowing how much Francis loved to feel a shiver down his spine when Arthur spoke like that. "Don't wake the children~"

Francis bit his lip, grinning as he knew he wouldn't be able to keep quiet if his life depended on it, and Arthur's undying smirk was driving him insane. He wanted Arthur, he wanted him immediately and more than once, but Arthur had pulled back teasingly. He quickly began loosening his tie, suddenly frustrated at his formal attire as it meant taking longer to undress. Francis laid back to wait for him, now naked and staring up at him with an expression of desire and longing. Arthur felt himself become more aroused as he saw the Frenchman lying beneath him, surrendering his body to his English lover. Arthur yanked off his shirt, kicking off his trousers as quickly as he could, desperate to be near Francis again. Francis watched him with a half-lidded gaze, shifting slightly as he felt impatient, but as soon as Arthur was free of clothes Francis leaned up, capturing his lips in another passionate kiss.

Arthur groaned into the kiss as he felt Francis' hand stroke his member, allowing the Frenchman to pleasure him for a moment before breaking the kiss, grabbing his hands and pushing Francis back onto the bed. Francis gasped in surprise but grinned, obediently lying back and letting Arthur keep his hands pinned above his head, but Arthur didn't miss the mischievous glint in his eyes. When Arthur began to let go of his hands to move lower down his body, Francis grinned, pushing Arthur back and flipping them over so that he was on top. Arthur barely had the chance to protest as Francis quickly moved down until his head was level with Arthur's member. Suddenly Arthur felt Francis' warm mouth engulf him and he let out a low moan, bucking his hips instinctively.

"Ah – Francis…~" Arthur breathed, tangling a hand in Francis' long blonde locks and thrusting into his mouth more, desperate for the pleasure. The Frenchman hummed around him, using his tongue in skilful ways to tease out delicious moans from his lover. He sucked and bobbed his head, knowing just what to do to make Arthur lose himself in pleasure.

Soon Arthur was panting and moaning underneath him, fucking Francis' mouth eagerly despite Francis' attempts to still his hips. Francis hummed around him, sending a vibration of pleasure through Arthur's member and making him moan louder. Arthur flung one hand over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his spontaneous moans, feeling a warmth in his lower body that signalled he was close. He tried to tell Francis between his moans, but he could barely manage the words before he let out a scream, releasing into Francis' mouth. Francis grinned, laughter in his eyes as he knew Arthur could never last very long when Francis used his tongue so teasingly. He swallowed Arthur's seed, pulling back and panting softly, watching Arthur shudder as he rode out his orgasm.

The Frenchman chuckled as he moved over Arthur, allowing his accent to lace his words more thickly as he knew how much Arthur secretly loved it. "Did you enjoy that, _mon amour_?~"

Arthur gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes for a moment, still recovering from the immense pleasure he had experienced, and all he could do was nod. Francis grinned, before brushing their lips teasingly, pulling back when Arthur tried to kiss him, which made the Englishman growl softly in frustration.

Arthur flipped them back so that Francis resumed his position lying on the bed with Arthur over him, and Francis laughed lightly as Arthur started peppering his face in kisses, but his laughter was replaced with a gasp as Arthur sat up to suck on his own fingers, making sure Francis knew what was coming next. Francis sucked in a breath in anticipation, feeling his own member twitch in excitement and he spread his legs.

Arthur smirked, sliding one finger into his lover, hearing his soft moan. Francis lolled his head back, panting softly as he already pushed onto the finger, more than used to being penetrated by Arthur and so it did not take long to stretch him. Arthur was still gentle though, taking his time to add a second finger and scissor him, and then adding a third finger to make sure it would not hurt. Before long, Francis whined in impatience, but he whined even louder when Arthur removed his fingers, missing the pleasure it gave him.

Arthur chuckled as he lined up. "Patience, love." He spread Francis' legs a little more, before glancing up at him to ask for a final sign of consent. Francis smiled, lifting his head slightly to nod.

"Arthur, please~" he begged, and that was enough. Arthur entered Francis slowly, stopping once he was fully inside. He waited, feeling Francis adjust to him quickly, while his French lover moaned at the feeling of being filled.

Francis panted softly, wriggling slightly after a few minutes experimentally, before groaning. "M-Move, _mon cher, s'il vous plait_ – move!"

His pleas made Arthur groan, and he eagerly obliged his lover's request, pulling out almost fully before slamming back into him. Francis gasped, moaning loudly and throwing his head back as Arthur quickly found a rhythm, his slender fingers reaching for Arthur's shoulders and gripping them tightly as if trying to hold onto reality itself. Arthur picked up the pace, steadily slamming into Francis harder and faster with every thrust. Francis was a moaning mess underneath him, but Arthur studied him carefully, searching for any signs that Francis was experiencing anything but pleasure. He was worried about hurting his lover ever since the first time he had dominated him, but Francis was lost in ecstasy, digging his nails into Arthur's shoulders as he screamed for more. Both of them forgot about keeping quiet, too lost in each other to worry about it, but the children remained asleep and the servants had long since turned a blind eye to Francis and Arthur's intimacy.

Francis screamed louder and louder until his lungs hurt and his voice grew hoarse, having wrapped his legs around Arthur's waist to take him deeper. Arthur let out growls and moans, groaning at the pain in his shoulders, but it spurred him to be rougher with his Frenchman.

"A-Arthur, _mon dieu_! I-I'm going to - !" Francis couldn't even finish his sentence before he arched his back into Arthur, releasing hard over their chests and screaming his lover's name. Arthur moaned, following suit after a few more sporadic thrusts and releasing inside Francis with a low moan of his name.

Francis panted heavily, his strong, slightly muscular chest heaving with every breath as he fell back against the bed. His lips were parted as he tried to catch his breath, his cerulean eyes half-lidded from the pleasure. His hair sprawled around his head in a golden halo, making Francis look like an angel to Arthur. The Englishman smiled as he saw this, catching his breath and pulling out of Francis before placing soft kisses over Francis' face. Francis chuckled breathlessly at the affection, reaching up and coaxing Arthur to lie next to him, before cuddling against his chest. Their legs tangled together and Arthur wrapped his arms around his lover protectively, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head lovingly.

Francis sighed happily and contentedly, closing his eyes as he listened to Arthur's heartbeat. " _Je t'aime_ , Arthur~" he whispered, snuggling even closer to him.

Arthur smiled softly, stroking Francis' silky hair gently as he replied. "I love you too…" he thought for a moment, before humming softly, feeling Francis' breathing slow.

"I wish that I could marry you, you know. You would make the perfect wife…~" his tone was teasing, but when he gained no response, he turned his head, seeing that Francis had already fallen asleep against his chest. He smiled to himself, kissing Francis' forehead, before closing his eyes, his thoughts filled with Francis as he drifted into sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: so what did you think of Maddie's first introduction to Gilbert? And also what do you think of Arthur being part of the family?**

 **Please review and let me know! x**


	9. Violet Meets Crimson

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Twelve years later, a beautiful blonde girl with bright, intelligent violet eyes sat looking out of the window, distracted from her embroidery by a daydream. Madeline and Alfred were now fourteen and a half, and Maddie had grown into a very attractive and proper young lady. Her papa had insisted on teaching Madeline the necessary etiquette required of young ladies, and Madeline had not wanted to disappoint him, so she had done her best to learn well. She was fluent in French and English and she knew how to dress, speak and conduct herself in a proper ladylike manner. Her father had nodded in approval, his usually stern features softening with pride.

Now Madeline sighed softly, staring out of her window at the street below, wishing she could at least have some slight freedom from her parents though, as both Francis and Arthur were very aware of how desirable she was, and like overprotective parents they kept her inside or escorted her when she left the house, to ward off undesirable young men. But Maddie had a secret, and a small smile played on her soft lips as she saw a familiar young man come into view, walking towards her house and stopping underneath her window on the opposite side of the street. The man was seventeen, only a few years older than Madeline, with startling white hair and crimson eyes, which starkly contrasted with his pale skin. Maddie had thought when she first saw him that she had met him somewhere before, but she could not quite remember.

Still, every day the young man paid her a visit, taking off his hat and bowing extravagantly, which always made her blush and giggle. The young man was quite a character, liking to be over the top without caring about the strange looks the passersby gave him. Madeline gave him a small incline of her head in return, feeling as if she knew him well despite the fact that they had never spoken to each other. All they ever did was smile at each other with a street between them, but it was enough. The young man produced a single red rose from behind his back with a grin that made Madeline's heart pound, and she smiled a little brighter. Hesitantly, she put down her embroidery to open her heavy window, gasping softly at the sudden rush of biting cold air that swept into her bedroom, but she leaned out of the window slightly with a smile.

The young man tossed the rose up to her, which Madeline only just caught, nicking her delicate finger on a thorn which hurt, but she didn't show it. Instead she smiled brightly, closing her eyes and inhaling the rose's delicate fragrance, sharing her Papa's appreciation for beautiful flowers. The young man watched her with a grin, his own heart pounding, before he pointed at the rose in her hand. Madeline blinked, before seeing a small note attached to the stem of the rose. She gently unravelled it from the stem, unfolding it to see very scrawled and messy writing, simply saying ten words:

 ** _'My name is Gilbert. I am in love with you.'_**

The handwriting was barely legible, and Madeline guessed that the young man – Gilbert – could not read and write very well at all, but her heart fluttered with happiness anyway. She smiled again, watching Gilbert stride across the street towards her house – the closest he had dared get so far. He could not stand directly underneath her window, because harsh railings skirted the house, but Gilbert stood behind the railings, looking up at her with a wide grin. He seemed about to say something, but then a knock sounded at Madeline's door.

"Ah – j-just a minute!" She widened her eyes, frantically flapping her delicate hands to shoo Gilbert away, tucking the rose and the note under the plump cushion she had been leaning against, just as the door opened.

"Madeline, _ma cherre_ ~" Her Papa entered the room with a bright smile, stopping as he saw his daughter and gasping. "Oh _mon dieu_ , you look so beautiful!~"

Madeline relaxed as she saw it was only Francis, who could easily be swayed by a turn of conversation if he was suspicious, unlike her father and brother who would have been on the young man's trail before Madeline could even blink.

"Good morning, Papa." She greeted in a soft voice, shivering as she felt another gush of cold air, and she realised in panic that she had left the window open.

Francis' eyes trailed to the open window, and he furrowed his brows slightly. Maddie thought he would guess what had happened, but he only smiled. "You'll catch a chill with the window open in the winter, _ma cherre_." Elegantly he strode past her, pulling the window down and putting the latch on. "There we are~"

He turned back to face Madeline, a soft smile on his features that Madeline was puzzled at, wondering what it meant. But it vanished, replaced with a bright smile. "I came to help with your hair, Maddie."

"I thought Father told you to send a maid to do my hair?" Madeline asked with a slightly coy smile, but her Papa pouted.

"I wanted to do it myself!" he confessed with a grin, having always loved styling Madeline's hair, although Arthur always told him off for 'doing the servant's job'. Madeline sat at her large, white vanity table, waiting patiently as Francis began brushing her hair. "Besides, you want to look your best for tonight, _oui_?"

As Francis played with her long, soft blonde hair, Madeline held back a sigh. Tonight her parents were holding a celebration as it was approaching Christmas, but mainly because Francis loved big parties and Arthur wanted to appease his lover. Francis had bought Madeline a new dress which she wore now, a beautiful gown that was somewhat low-cut (Arthur almost pitched a fit when Francis first showed him) but it showed off her slim figure beautifully. It was quite heavy but the rich crimson colour throughout the dress made it one of her favourites.

"You might meet a charming young suitor tonight, _ma cherre_ …" Francis mused as he ran his hands through her hair, trying to decide how he should style it. "Are you nervous?"

Madeline feigned interest in this, although secretly her heart already belonged to Gilbert, even if she had only just learned his name this morning, but she could not let her Papa know this. However, Francis was far more observant than Madeline gave him credit for, and he smirked.

"Unless you have already met someone…?" he prompted, and Maddie froze, but Francis only laughed. "Well, you will have to introduce me to him, _oui_?"

Madeline swallowed, fidgeting with her slender fingers in her lap. "H-He is not going to be at the celebration, Papa."

"Oh?" Francis tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he met her gaze in the mirror. "But your father has invited nearly everyone with a title in London – " he paused as he realised, his expression softening. "…Does this man have a title?"

Madeline blushed, shaking her head. She knew Gilbert was the apprentice of a blacksmith, and therefore her father would never approve of the match. However, her Papa was always more focused on _l'amour_ than the titles that came with it.

"I see…" Francis pondered for a moment, sliding a few clips gently into her hair as he began putting it up for her. "Do you love him, _ma cherre_?"

Madeline paused, blushing darkly at the question. "I-I…" she stuttered, looking down and avoiding her Papa's gaze.

Francis watched her with a smile. "I would still like to meet him. Who is he?"

Madeline stayed silent though, afraid that if Francis found out he was only a blacksmith he would disapprove as well.

Francis tried to prompt her into telling him, but she stubbornly refused. Eventually Francis pouted. "Oh, _ma petite_ …" he sighed but smiled as he finished putting up her hair, having styled it beautifully so that her blonde locks resembled a rose. Her little curl was the only part that would not be tamed by Francis, but Madeline liked it that way. Francis stood back, admiring his handiwork proudly before getting another mirror and showing Madeline the back of her head. "Do you like it?"

Madeline smiled softly, giving a gentle nod. " _Oui, merci_ Papa…"

Francis beamed, kissing her cheek gently. "Now then, let me go and find your brother."

Once Francis left, Madeline heaved a small sigh, knowing with a heavy heart that she would probably not be granted permission to have Gilbert court her. Still, she held out hope that perhaps she could win her parents over someday.

XxX

Francis sighed in exasperation. There was only an hour left until their guests would begin to arrive, and he could not find Alfred anywhere.

Frustrated, he knocked on the door of Arthur's study, entering when he heard a soft 'Come in', granting him permission.

" _Mon cher_ , have you seen Alfred?" The Frenchman asked, his tone weary as he could never tame the unruly boy. Arthur was sat at his desk, engrossed in paperwork and, Francis noted, also not dressed for the celebration. "Arthur!" Francis whined, "You're not ready, either!"

Arthur blinked and looked up at the large clock on the mantelpiece, blushing faintly as he realised the time. "Oh – I did not realise what time it was." Noticing his lover's pout and clear frustration, he stood, abandoning his paperwork. Francis escorted him to the bedroom that they shared, helping him to get changed. Arthur sighed as he let Francis pick his outfit and fuss over him once he was wearing it. Francis neatened Arthur's tie, frowning in concentration as he ran his hands through Arthur's hair to neaten it. Arthur rolled his eyes, more than used to Francis' fussing by now so he just let him do as he pleased.

He let his eyes travel over Francis' attire, noticing that he looked exceptionally stunning in his new outfit. It was light blue and gold, and the colours complimented Francis' cerulean eyes and blonde hair wonderfully. He had tied his golden locks back with a light-blue ribbon, and he had bathed until he smelled almost overpoweringly of roses. Arthur mused to himself that Francis had not seemed to age a day in twelve years, whereas Arthur had lines of stress and sternness on his features.

Francis caught Arthur staring at him, and he smiled a little. " _Quoi?_ "

"Nothing," The Englishman chuckled softly. "I was just admiring how lovely you look today~"

He saw Francis' face light up at the compliment, as Arthur rarely complimented him so openly. " _Merci, amour_ ~"

Francis stepped back to look Arthur over, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks. " _Mon dieu_ , you look very handsome _, cher_ ~" he grinned, placing his slender hands against Arthur's chest gently. "Perhaps I will have to fight to keep you tonight…~"

Arthur chuckled softly at this, taking Francis' hands gently and pressing his lips to his knuckles affectionately. Francis had selected a forest-green outfit for him that brought out the emerald of his eyes and made him look dashing. He smiled, pecking Francis' lips gently. "Do you have your mask, love?"

"Of course~" Francis beamed, producing a blue and gold mask that matched his outfit. Arthur had a green one, and Madeline had a crimson mask. Francis loved masquerades more than anything, so Arthur had ensured the very best for his lover.

Arthur chuckled, but part of him was dreading tonight, as he knew all the fair ladies would flirt with Francis, and equally he would charm them, keeping up the pretence that he was not already spoken for. Arthur hated not being able to claim his Frenchman properly, but he knew it was all in jest and that he had nothing to worry about. Still, seeing Francis flirt with countless ladies made his blood boil with envy.

Francis was unaware of Arthur's apprehension, humming to himself as he checked over himself in a large, full-body length mirror. Arthur smiled to himself as he watched him, feeling his heart beat faster even after all these years.

XxX

Madeline stifled a sigh as she was jostled by men and women alike who did not notice her. Her crimson mask hid her pretty features, but her violet eyes scanned the crowd in the ballroom for any sign of her father or Papa. She spotted Francis brushing his lips against the knuckles of a pretty young woman, being as charming as he always was. Then her gaze fell on Arthur, who was predictably watching Francis like a hawk from across the ballroom.

Madeline was old enough to understand that Francis and Arthur had to keep their love a secret, but she also knew that it made her father insanely jealous when Francis flirted with other people, even if he knew the Frenchman did not mean it. She smiled softly to herself, before searching for her brother, but Alfred still had not shown up. Francis had been very annoyed when Alfred had not joined them to greet their guests, but Maddie knew her brother was probably too busy spying on some girl he had taken a liking to.

Madeline sighed again as she felt stifled in the room full of people, so she carefully weaved through the crowds of dancers and conversation-makers until she reached the gardens. Her Papa kept a beautiful garden, filled with all manner of beautiful flowers, and Madeline suddenly felt like she could breathe again as she walked alone among the plants.

She jumped as she heard rustling in the dark hedges of the garden, which were not lit at all, the only light being from the huge windows of the house. Her heart beat faster, and she almost screamed when something rushed out at her, but it was only a bird, perhaps retiring for the night and she had startled it. Madeline breathed a sigh of relief, feeling foolish for being frightened by a bird, but then she felt someone grab her from behind, stifling her scream by clamping one hand over her mouth. She tried to struggle, but her captor leaned in close.

"Do not be afraid," her captor said in a thick accent that she could not quite place. "It's me – Gilbert!"

Madeline paused, quietening so that her captor would remove his hand, and when he did she turned to face him, seeing the familiar crimson eyes and handsome face. She let out a shaky sigh, before shoving Gilbert slightly in an unladylike fashion, having been scared out of her mind that some stranger was about to kidnap her.

"Gilbert!" Tears had formed in her eyes, and suddenly she was thankful that the mask hid her face from him.

Gilbert grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender as he let go of her fully.

"What are you doing here?" Maddie asked softly, although her heart swelled with happiness at his presence, having been terribly lonely all evening.

"I wanted to see you," he shrugged, as if he hadn't climbed over the wall in the dead of night to do so. " _Und_ I wanted to hear what you sound like." He grinned again, his smile making Madeline blush. He was dressed in a black suit that was too big for him, undoubtedly borrowed from someone wealthier than himself, but he had brushed his hair and washed in an attempt to seem richer. Madeline secretly thought he was very handsome indeed, but then again she had always thought so, even when Gilbert looked like a street urchin, which was more often than not.

"What is your name?" Gilbert asked, pronouncing his W's like V's which confused Madeline, as the only accent she had ever heard was her Papa's, and she was unfamiliar with this one.

"M-Madeline…Madeline Bonnefoy…" she told him cautiously, looking down.

Gilbert grinned. "Can I call you Maddie?"

Madeline blushed at his forwardness, and she pictured Arthur in her head, lecturing Gilbert on how he was supposed to address her as 'Miss Bonnefoy', but she pushed the thought aside and nodded shyly.

"W-What is your surname?" she asked him, her violet eyes meeting his crimson ones for a moment, before she darted her gaze away out of shyness.

"Bielschmidt~" Gilbert said, and Madeline blinked in confusion. Gilbert noticed this and he let out an obnoxious laugh.

"My family lives in Germany." He explained, and Maddie nodded in understanding. She knew where Germany was, from the maps that Arthur had shown her and Alfred in their tutoring.

"They do not live here with you?" she asked shyly, but she found Gilbert much easier to talk to than most of the people in the ballroom.

Gilbert shook his head, if he was sad, he did not show it. "Nein, I came to England thirteen years ago with my father, but he passed away shortly after arriving here."

Madeline gasped softly, one slender hand covering her soft lips in shock. "Oh, I am terribly sorry, I did not mean to – "

Gilbert shrugged and smiled. "You only asked, you don't need to apologise~" He gently took her hand away from her mouth, kissing her knuckles softly. His touch was gentle, despite his occupation as a blacksmith's apprentice.

Madeline blushed almost as red as her mask, smiling though.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to her mask.

Madeline hesitated, but then she nodded softly. Gilbert gently removed her mask, accidentally messing up her hair slightly, but Maddie didn't mind. When her face was revealed, Gilbert's crimson eyes lit up.

"You're even prettier up close~" he complimented, and this time Maddie didn't have the mask to hide her blush.

Just then, raucous laughter erupted from the ballroom, heard by Madeline and Gilbert because the double doors to the garden had opened once again. Madeline's heart stopped in fear as she saw Francis making his way towards her, and she turned back to Gilbert – but he had disappeared.

"Maddie!~" Francis had had a lot to drink, but he had not gone so far as to be completely drunk, so he was just in high spirits. "What are you doing out here by yourself _, cherre_?" he asked tenderly, having noticed her absence – the only one who had noticed, apparently.

"I just needed some air, Papa." She replied truthfully enough, but she was terrified of where Gilbert had gone.

Francis regarded her for a moment, before catching on way too quickly as his eyes widened and he gasped in excitement. "Is he here? The young man I want to meet?"

Maddie's own eyes widened. "P-Papa, _non_! H-He isn't here!" but Francis could see through her lie before she had even uttered it, and he grinned.

"I want to meet him, _s'il vous plait_ ~" Francis smiled in anticipation, and Maddie shifted uneasily, before sighing. Gilbert had been watching from behind the hedge, but now he stood and stepped forward, showing himself.

Francis' cerulean eyes landed on him, and recognition crossed his features, but he smiled. "Bonjour, I am Francis Bonnefoy, Madeline's father~" He extended a hand, and Gilbert shook it hesitantly.

"Uh – i-it's nice to meet you, sir." Gilbert said meekly, his bravado vanished at the thought of meeting the father of the one he loved.

"What is your name, young man?" Francis asked with a smile, his face betraying nothing to Maddie.

"G-Gilbert…Bielschmidt…" he added his surname as an afterthought, remembering that Maddie had asked for it, so he guessed it was important.

"Well Mr Bielschmidt," Francis addressed him politely, but Gilbert had never been called that before. "You are the blacksmith's boy, _oui_?"

"His apprentice, sir." Gilbert corrected, lowering his gaze respectfully.

Francis regarded him kindly, nodding gently. "I see. So you have taken a liking to my Madeline, have you?"

"P-Papa!" Madeline squeaked in embarrassment, but Francis glanced at her with a smile to reassure her.

Gilbert shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. " _J-Ja_ – yes, sir."

"Well then," Francis drew himself up to his full height, which was half a head taller than Gilbert at most. "How would you like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening?"

Gilbert had expected at least a reprimand, at most to be arrested for trespassing. But he had not expected to be invited for dinner. "M-Me, sir?"

Francis let out a laugh, easing Gilbert slightly. "Oui, of course. It would only be proper for you to meet our family~"

Gilbert gave a cautious smile, trusting Francis easily as the Frenchman seemed kind and caring.

Madeline looked up at her Papa in surprise, but Francis only smiled at her, showing he had no ulterior motives. He simply wanted to get to know the boy who had stolen his daughter's heart.

"Thank you, sir." Gilbert accepted his offer gratefully, but a little nervously.

Francis nodded, pleased. " _Bien_ ~" he chuckled. "However, since you are here without invitation tonight, I am afraid I am forced to ask you to leave before the Master of the House finds out."

Gilbert nodded in understanding. "Right away, sir." He ran back to the wall, giving Maddie a smile over his shoulder before he scrambled up and over, finally out of sight.

Francis chuckled. "He seemed nice."

Madeline, however, was not so at ease. "What will Father say?"

"Whatever he wants. I do not care, _ma cherre_. He can make a fuss if he chooses, but Gilbert is coming to dinner whether your father likes it or not." His grin eased Maddie, and she hugged him tightly.

" _Merci_ , Papa."

Francis smiled, holding her close and kissing the top of her head, before pulling back and taking her hand. "Shall we go back inside before we are missed?"

Maddie nodded, and Francis escorted her back to the house. "Besides, I still have not had the chance to dance with you, _ma cherre_."

Madeline smiled, obliging her Papa since he had done something so wonderful for her in accepting Gilbert.

* * *

 **A/N: Ah the budding romance~ Please review and let me know what you thought of Francis' reaction to Gilbert, and also what do you think Arthur's reaction is going to be? Let me know~**


	10. Master Of The House

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter contains some violence, you have been warned.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

"You did _what_?!" Arthur exclaimed, frowning at his lover, who was casually lounging on the sofa in their bedroom, watching Arthur with amusement.

"I invited him over for dinner this evening~" Francis repeated calmly.

"Why?" Arthur snapped, trying to tie his tie but he was so focused on being mad at Francis that his fingers fumbled. Francis rolled his eyes, heaving himself off the sofa and coming over to Arthur, tying his tie for him as he pecked his lips to try and pacify him.

"Because I want to get to know the young man who has my daughter's heart, don't you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, huffing. "Madeline is only fourteen, she is too young to give her heart to anyone."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "How old were you when you fell in love with me?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, scowling at his lover, as they both knew he had been thirteen when he properly fell in love with Francis. "Stop comparing our relationship to anything Madeline might have. It's infuriating."

Francis smirked. "You only find it infuriating because you know I'm right, _cher_." He captured Arthur's lips, kissing him lovingly as he didn't want to fall out with him. Arthur reluctantly kissed back, but he pouted when Francis pulled back so soon.

"But Madeline likes Gilbert, and it only took one look at the young man to know that he would go to great lengths just for her, so they will be together whether we approve of it or not. I would rather not force them to have a secret relationship…"

Arthur met Francis' gaze, contemplating his words. He knew Francis hated keeping their own relationship a secret, but it was that or prison.

He sighed in defeat. "Fine. I will give this boy one chance, but if I don't like him, I cannot help that."

Francis rolled his eyes a little, but nodded, conceding. " _Oui_ , alright."

XxX

Alfred cursed as he fell through his open bedroom window, landing on the polished floor with a thud. He winced, hoping neither Francis nor Arthur would have heard, but when no one came to investigate he grinned, counting it as a victory. He got to his feet, dusting off his expensive clothes before noticing that his shirt was ripped, and he swore again.

Sighing, he closed the window behind him, trudging across his bedroom floor and unlocking his door, before going to his sister's bedroom and rapping his knuckles on the door gently.

"Maddie?" he called, and he heard a soft 'come in, Alfred' in response. He pushed open the door, seeing Madeline sat at her desk studying.

She looked up when Alfred entered, and smiled coyly. "Where have you been?" she asked softly. "Papa was angry that you missed the celebration…"

Alfred shrugged, grinning. "Can you do me a favour?" he asked, deliberately avoiding her question about his whereabouts.

Maddie nodded. "What do you need?"

Alfred showed her his ripped shirt. "If Papa sees, he'll think I was up to no good. And if Father sees…" he trailed off, knowing from experience that Arthur was the stricter parent of the two. Maddie nodded in understanding, standing and fetching her sewing kit.

"I can't give it to the maid – she would tell on me." Alfred reasoned further, as if to convince Madeline that she was his only option, but his sister was already setting to work mending his shirt anyway.

Maddie was quiet as she worked on his shirt, but after a few minutes she looked up at him. "Where _have_ you been, Alfred?" she asked, purely out of curiosity.

Alfred shrugged. "Just…around."

Madeline narrowed her eyes at him. She guessed that Alfred had probably been getting up to mischief with his friends, drinking and doing goodness-knows what else. She could faintly smell alcohol on him, and she wrinkled her nose. "You should bathe before Papa and Father know you're home…"

Alfred blinked but nodded, giving Maddie a sheepish grin. Madeline finished sewing Alfred's shirt, cutting the thread neatly, so that it barely even looked like it had ripped in the first place.

"Thanks, Maddie." Alfred smiled, hugging his sister briefly before rushing back to his bedroom to bathe and change.

Madeline sighed, worried about the reckless behaviour of her brother, but she knew that he was just feeling the need to be rebellious.

XxX

"Ah – Arthur, we don't have time _– mmph_!" Francis' protests were muffled as Arthur kissed him passionately, having felt teased by Francis' earlier affection and now he wanted to take it further. Francis' protest was half-hearted as he all-too-willingly pulled him closer, kissing him back. Arthur was about to start undressing his French lover when a knock sounded at the door.

Arthur growled in frustration, pulling back and snapping at the closed door. " _What?!"_

The meek voice of one of the maids was audible on the other side. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but your son has returned home."

Francis blinked but smiled in relief, pulling back, but Arthur pouted as he had wanted to continue making love to Francis. The Frenchman noted his expression and chuckled, pecking his lips. "There'll be time for that later, _cher._ For now, I want to know where the hell Alfred has been."

Arthur sighed, nodding, but he couldn't help wishing that Alfred had come home a bit later and hadn't interrupted them.

XxX

Alfred finished bathing, getting dressed in a smart blue suit that brought out his eyes, as his Papa had told him. He made sure to look as dashing as possible, intending to go out again soon. Alfred opened his bedroom door, yelping though as he saw both his parents standing there: Arthur had his arms crossed and his brows furrowed; Francis had his hands on his hips in a rather effeminate manner.

"Whoa – " Alfred began in surprise.

"Just where have you been, young man?" Arthur's tone was stern and reprimanding, scolding the fourteen-year-old.

Francis thought this approach was much too harsh though, and he stepped forward, hugging Alfred quickly. "We were worried about you, _mon petit_ …"

Alfred blinked, patting his Papa on the back awkwardly as he had quickly grown out of showing affection to his parents, much to Francis' disappointment. "Uh – thanks, Papa…"

Arthur scowled at Francis, and the Frenchman sighed but stepped back again, leaving Alfred at the mercy of his English father.

"Alfred, I will ask you again. Where have you been?" Arthur punctuated each word very clearly and firmly, his emerald eyes fierce.

Alfred and Arthur had very similar personalities, which unfortunately meant that they clashed more than they complemented. Now, Alfred's own eyes narrowed in defiance. "Why do you care? I doubt you even noticed I was gone."

Francis' expression betrayed how hurt he felt by Alfred's words, as he cared about the children immensely, but Arthur took the lead, keeping Francis quiet.

"Of course we noticed, how could we miss the absence of your loud-mouthed arrogance?" Arthur retorted, ignoring the look of disapproval Francis gave him.

"Maybe you were too busy working all the time?" Alfred's eyes flashed dangerously as he knew just how to press Arthur's buttons, ignoring Francis' gaze pleading his son not to escalate matters. "Or maybe you were too busy thinking about sticking your cock in Papa to even care whether I was here or not – "

 _ **Slap!**_

Alfred's smug expression was struck off his face by Arthur's firm hand, which slapped him across the cheek hard enough to make it sting, stunning the boy into momentary silence. Francis let out a shriek, his eyes wide in disbelief that Arthur had laid a hand on their son, but Arthur frowned.

"How dare you speak to me like that?!" he raged, his green eyes ablaze with fury.

Alfred blinked, his cheek red from the abuse, but it only ignited his own rage further. "Fuck you! I hate you! I hate both of you!" he screamed, pushing past Arthur and shoving Francis away when he tried to comfort his son. He stormed down the stairs and out of sight, leaving a fuming Englishman and a heartbroken Frenchman in his wake.

Arthur sighed angrily, turning to Francis whom he expected would comfort him, but he was met by an ice cold gaze.

"How dare you…" Francis whispered.

Arthur blinked. "Pardon?"

"How dare you hurt our son!" Francis shouted, but it only reignited Arthur's fury.

"I will NOT be disrespected!" He yelled, loud enough to silence Francis. The Frenchman froze, thinking in that moment that Arthur sounded so much like his father, and Francis began to tremble. But Arthur didn't notice, gritting his teeth as he growled. "I am the master of this house, and I expect to be listened to! You've been getting far too lenient with the children, Francis, and I shall discipline them as I see fit."

Francis was wide-eyed, hardly hearing Arthur's words as his back began to sting with the memory of the abuse he took from Arthur's father, and he only lowered his head as a sign of submission, too afraid to retaliate.

Arthur was still fuming, but Francis' silence made him calm down more quickly, and he sighed, placing a hand on Francis' shoulder, but he frowned in confusion when Francis flinched away from him. The Frenchman's expression had become dark and blank, as if he was in a trance, and his body was stiff and rigid.

"Francis?"

Francis didn't respond, his golden locks hiding half of his face as Arthur tried to speak to him.

Pearce came up the stairs, drawn by all the shouting, but he recognised Francis' trance-like state all too well, having been the one to nurse him after the beatings he had suffered.

Arthur looked up at Pearce, confused and concerned. "What is the matter with him?" he asked cautiously, and Pearce swallowed.

"Master Francis needs to rest, sir…" Pearce began slowly, choosing his words carefully so he would not accidentally reveal something Francis would not want him to. "I shall take him back to his room." Pearce gently held Francis by the shoulders, guiding him back to his bedroom. Francis' feet moved slowly and lethargically, almost as if he was sleep-walking, but he didn't fight Pearce.

Arthur watched them go, more confused than ever, but he assumed Francis was just upset because Arthur had yelled at him, so he went to his study to bury himself in paperwork as he always did after he had argued with someone.

XxX

Pearce sat Francis down on his bed, rubbing his back gently.

"Master Francis?" his voice was gentle and calm, and slowly Francis became more responsive to the familiarity of having Pearce comfort him. When the Frenchman finally came back fully, he was able to recall what had happened, and he burst into tears, sobbing against Pearce's chest.

The butler's usually stern expression softened and he wrapped his arms around Francis, which was unprofessional, but Francis was grateful for it.

"H-He…was just like…h-his…- " Francis tried to explain what had happened, but Pearce had been able to piece together the sequence of events, judging by Alfred's angry departure from the house with a red cheek, the yelling he had heard and then Francis' traumatised state. Pearce rocked Francis gently.

"You know he is better than that, sir. You know he would never hurt you." Pearce reassured softly, but Francis sniffed.

"He hit Alfred – he shouted at me. I-I thought he was going to hit me too…" Francis' voice was meek and shaking, and Pearce knew it had been years since Francis had been in such a state. All he could do was hold the Frenchman until he eventually calmed down, and then he gently laid him down on the bed, pulling the duvet over him.

"Get some rest, sir. You'll feel better for it when you wake up."

Francis whimpered though as Pearce moved to leave him. " _N-Non_ , the nightmares – "

Pearce's eyes softened in understanding, and he fetched Francis a sleeping draught that he kept in Francis' vanity table drawer for when the night terrors would be unbearable, and he administered it to the sobbing Frenchman gently. The butler waited loyally until Francis drifted into a dreamless sleep, before leaving the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

XxX

Francis slept for most of the day, undisturbed by Arthur, who sat in his study and worked, occasionally pouring himself a whiskey to help the guilt he was feeling subside.

As day turned into evening, a brash, confident knock sounded at the door. Pearce answered it to find Gilbert, and he was somewhat startled by the boy's albino appearance, but he did well to hide it. "May I help you, sir?" Pearce asked politely enough.

"Uh – Mr Bonnefoy invited me over for dinner this evening." Gilbert tried to sound confident, but there was a slight off feeling about the house, as if there had been some sort of negative event. Pearce nodded, leading him to the library.

"Wait here, I will rouse Master Francis." Pearce left Gilbert to his own devices in the library, going upstairs to Francis' bedroom and knocking on the door. He received no response, which he expected, so he opened the door and went over to the bed, gently holding Francis' shoulders and shaking him to wake him up.

"Master Francis…" the butler called softly, and Francis let out a soft groan, slowly regaining consciousness. He opened his cerulean eyes, blinking owlishly up at Pearce for a moment.

"Hmm…what is it, Pearce?" he asked groggily, sitting up slowly.

"Mr Bielschmidt is here for dinner." Pearce replied, placing a glass of water in Francis' hand.

Francis mumbled thanks, sipping the water as he woke up more, before nodding. "How does he look?"

"Pardon, sir?"

"His clothes – does he look presentable?" Francis stretched, dragging himself out of bed, but the sleeping draught had made him very groggy and he badly wanted to go back to sleep.

"He looks…scruffy, sir." Pearce admitted.

Francis nodded. "Send him to me. I want to make sure he looks presentable enough to win Arthur over tonight."

Pearce inclined his head respectfully. "Right away, sir." He turned on his heel, leaving Francis to dress and make himself more presentable before Gilbert came up.

Francis sighed to himself, slowly remembering what had happened before Pearce gave him the sleeping draught, and his heart ached. But when he heard Gilbert knock on the door, he forced a smile and turned to face him.

"Gilbert! How good it is to see you~" he greeted happily, forgoing Gilbert's extended hand in favour of hugging him instead and kissing both cheeks. He chuckled at Gilbert's shocked expression.

"If you are to be part of this family, you will have to grow used to my affection, I'm afraid~" Francis warned in amusement, but Gilbert smiled, blushing faintly.

"I see – why have you called me up here, sir?" Gilbert asked, a little nervous.

Francis only smiled. "I merely wanted to make sure your attire was suitable for this evening." He noted Gilbert's shabby-looking formal clothes, sympathising that the young man was poor and could not afford as nice clothes as Francis could. He gestured to a couple of his own outfits that he had carefully selected.

"You may wear some of my clothes for this evening. Or some of Arthur's, if mine are too large on you."

Gilbert glanced at the outfits somewhat nervously, unsure what to make of the almost too-kind Frenchman. But Francis' smile showed he bore no ill will, and the albino young man chose one of Francis' outfits, not wanting to wear the clothing of a man who had yet to approve of him. Besides, Gilbert was shorter than Francis but he was rather muscular due to his manual labour, and so the outfit fit him rather well.

Francis smiled as Gilbert emerged from behind the folding screen, looking like a ward rather than a blacksmith's apprentice. Francis beamed, clearly very pleased.

"You look truly dashing, Gilbert~" he complimented, straightening Gilbert's tie and smoothing down his hair with gentle, slender fingers. Gilbert allowed him to do as he pleased, knowing that from the way Francis looked, he certainly knew what he was doing.

The German caught sight of himself in the mirror, blinking and then widening his eyes as he hardly recognised himself. The outfit Francis had chosen for him was crimson, much like his eyes, the red jacket cut nicely over a white shirt with ruffles, tucked into dark trousers. Francis hummed softly, before gasping.

"Oh – I have something to complete the outfit!" he declared, crossing the room to his vanity table and rummaging through a delicate silver jewellery box until he found a garnet broach, one that Arthur had gifted him a few years ago. He smiled, gently pinning it against Gilbert's shirt, pleased as he stepped back to admire him.

Gilbert smiled softly, thanking him, but he suddenly felt nervous, like an imposter in such lavish clothing in a rich household.

Francis noticed his hesitation. "Gilbert? Are you alright?" he asked kindly.

Gilbert blinked, but nodded. " _J-Ja,_ I just – you mentioned the Master of the House earlier…what will he think of me?" Gilbert was a man who rarely lacked confidence, but he was desperate for Madeline's parents to like him, which made him more self-conscious.

Francis only smiled. "Arthur is unfortunately a very stubborn man, and he is very protective of Madeline, as am I. However, if he sees that you truly care for her and will look after her, then I hope he will warm to you."

This response did not exactly elicit hope in Gilbert or calm his nerves, but before he could reply, Pearce was at the door.

"Sorry to interrupt you, sir. But dinner is served."

Francis smiled, nodding. " _Bien~ Merci_ , Pearce. We shall be down in a minute."

"Very good, sir." The butler inclined his head respectfully, leaving back down the corridor.

Francis smiled, checking his own appearance in the mirror, before humming and walking to the door. "Shall we?" He turned back to Gilbert, inviting him to walk beside the Frenchman.

Gilbert grinned, regaining some of his confident air. " _Ja_ , of course." He caught up with him, and the German and Frenchman went down the stairs together, both of them secretly bracing themselves for the encounter ahead.

* * *

 **A/N: ooh so the dinner scene is next, what do you think will happen? Will Arthur accept Gilbert? And what will Alfred think of it, as Maddie's overprotective brother? And also, what do you think of the strains on Arthur and Francis' relationship? Please review and let me know what you think!**


	11. Dinner

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

 _Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

The large, ornate clock counted the seconds obtrusively as it sat observing the dining room from the grand mantelpiece. The only other accompaniment to the incessant ticking was the clinking sound of silver cutlery making contact with expensive china plates.

The five of them were sat at the long dining table. Arthur was at the head of the table, making his position as Master of the House more than clear. Francis was sat to his right, eating quietly and not sparing his lover a single glance. Gilbert was sat next to Francis, grateful for the company of the Frenchman and the distance he provided between the albino and the stern Englishman. Across the table, Madeline was seated on the left side of Arthur, meek and quiet as she could easily sense the tense atmosphere. Lastly, Alfred sat next to his sister and opposite Gilbert, meaning that he could easily glower at the German.

Gilbert noted that both Arthur and Alfred were glaring at him in silence. Arthur had hardly touched his food, holding his glass in one hand which he occasionally sipped from, the other hand resting on the table close to Madeline's place, never tearing his gaze from the albino. Alfred shovelled his food down almost angrily, as if he blamed Gilbert when the hot meal burned his tongue and throat. Francis and Madeline both ate quietly, but when the atmosphere became unbearable, it was Francis that summoned the courage to speak. He gently put his cutlery down, reaching for his wine glass and taking a long sip, before turning to Gilbert with a kind smile.

"So, Gilbert. What brought you to England?" it was an innocent question, one that Francis hoped would make Arthur relax slightly.

Gilbert finished the food he was chewing on, swallowing nervously as he began telling the rest of the table what he had already told Madeline. Francis listened happily, nodding in response occasionally. Arthur's brow furrowed further as he stared intently at the German, so intently that Gilbert felt he could cut the stare with a knife.

Gilbert usually loved attention, but it was a bit much having everyone except Madeline staring at him, so he cleared his throat. "Um, what about you, sir? What brought you to England?"

Francis blinked, having not expected the question to return its attention to him, but he smiled. "Well, I came here when I was sixteen, hoping that my artistry would be more appreciated in England than it was in France, but it was not so easy…" his tone held underlying sadness, and Gilbert got the feeling that there was more to the story, but the Frenchman continued with a smile.

"I was thinking about going back home, when I met Arthur. He took me in…" he glanced at Arthur; it was the first time he had looked at the Englishman for the entire meal. Arthur scoffed slightly as he knew Francis was only bringing this up in the hopes that Arthur would accept Gilbert into his family as he had for Francis.

Gilbert could see what Francis was trying to do, but he was painfully aware that Arthur was not being very receptive to the Frenchman's attempts. He picked up his cutlery again nervously, his eyes darting around at the dining room, but he paused as his crimson eyes met a soft, violet gaze. Madeline had not looked up much for the entire meal, but now she was looking at Gilbert with a soft smile. Gilbert smiled back, feeling a flutter blossom in his chest.

Alfred let out a growl, slamming his hand against the table as he saw the albino eyeing up his sister, hard enough to make the cutlery rattle against the plates. Francis jumped, gasping.

"Alfred, _cher,_ please don't do that…" he chastised softly, but Alfred ignored his Papa.

"What kind of interest do you have in my sister?" the blonde boy demanded, very protective of Madeline and frustrated that his Papa seemed so keen to give her away.

Francis frowned. "Alfred!"

Arthur would normally have scolded Alfred too, but now he just watched, as Alfred was echoing his own sentiment. Madeline shot a pleading look at her Father, silently asking him to intervene, but Arthur ignored both his daughter and his lover's gaze.

Gilbert swallowed, forcing himself to have confidence as Madeline's brother was little more than a boy, whereas Gilbert was a grown man. He straightened his back, drawing himself up to his full height and meeting Alfred's stare almost challengingly.

"The interest I have in your sister is purely to do with her well-being. I wish to love and care for her, and make sure she never wants for anything…" he said, his voice becoming softer as his gaze travelled from Alfred to Madeline. The girl smiled softly, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, but she flinched as Arthur finally spoke.

"Madeline is loved and cared for here, and she has everything she could ever want. What makes you think you could do a better job than we are?" the Englishman's tone was stern and threatening, his emerald eyes flashing dangerously as he stared at Gilbert, but the German was not to be deterred so easily.

"I'm sure Madeline does not wish to be cooped up inside the room of her parent's house for her whole life." He replied calmly and respectfully, not intimidated by Arthur's stance.

Maddie hated being discussed, but she silently agreed with Gilbert, having felt stifled and over-protected at home.

"And you think you can protect her? As a lowly, _foreign_ , blacksmith's apprentice?" Arthur retorted, spitting out the word 'foreign' in particular. Francis tensed at this, having not heard such hatred in Arthur's tone before, but he felt more than offended.

"There is nothing wrong with being from a lower-class, Arthur – or with being foreign." Francis glared at Arthur, as the Frenchman had come from a 'lowly' background as well, not to mention he was French.

Arthur hesitated, realising his mistake, but his pride would not allow him to apologise so easily. "How is he supposed to care for Madeline and provide for her when he barely makes any money?"

Madeline finally bucked up the courage to speak, interrupting Arthur. "Mr Bielschmidt will soon be a blacksmith in his own right, I'm sure…Besides, he would not be the only one to provide for me, unless you are willing to disinherit me, Father…" her voice was soft but somewhat defiant, and Arthur was taken aback by how uncharacteristic it was of his sweet daughter.

"Of course we would not just abandon you, _ma cherre_ …" Francis reassured, smiling at his daughter from across the table. "We will always ensure that you and Gilbert are comfortable."

Arthur frowned at Francis, although he could not deny he would do his best to support Madeline and her lover if they needed it. Everyone fell silent for a while after that, finishing their meal and avoiding eye contact with everyone else.

XxX

They retired to the drawing room, filing inside silently. Arthur sat on the sofa, expecting Francis to sit beside him as he always did. It surprised and slightly irked the Englishman when Francis instead chose to sit beside Gilbert on the opposite sofa. Madeline passively sat beside her father, and Alfred refused a seat in the armchair, instead leaning against the large, grand mantelpiece restlessly. His baby-blue eyes were ice as they regarded Gilbert with a judgemental stare, not deeming him worthy of having any interest in his beloved sister.

Francis sighed, deciding to ease the tension by pouring everyone a drink. He served a rich, red wine from a crystal decanter, pouring a generous amount in each glass. Alfred and Madeline had wine with every meal despite being only fourteen, but Francis rarely allowed them such a beverage without food. The Frenchman hesitated before he poured Arthur a glass, handing it to him quickly as if he did not want to be near him. Arthur regarded him, recalling how Francis had acted strangely earlier, but he still did not understand the effect it had had on his French lover. Francis avoided eye-contact with him, sitting next to Gilbert again and sipping his own wine.

"So Gilbert," Francis began to break the silence, keeping his focus on the albino young man, which somewhat irked Arthur. "Would you care for a tour of the house?"

Gilbert blinked in surprise, glancing at Arthur nervously, before looking back at Francis. "Oh – uh, _ja_ …?" his uncertainty was obvious, but Francis smiled, before turning to Madeline.

"Madeline, ma petite, would you show Gilbert around the house?" A coy smirk played on his lips as he created a situation where Gilbert and Madeline could be alone.

Arthur immediately stiffened, frowning. "Absolutely not." He snapped.

"I shall accompany them, of course." Francis retorted, finally meeting Arthur's gaze but only in a challenging manner.

Madeline blushed darkly, glancing at Gilbert but when she saw he was looking at her, her gaze quickly darted around the room shyly.

Arthur frowned, angry that Francis was being so openly defiant towards him, but he did not wish to make a scene in front of a stranger, so he merely nodded. "As you wish." He replied shortly.

Francis smirked in triumph, standing and offering his hand to Madeline to help her to her feet. Madeline accepted her father's hand, and Gilbert stood too.

The three of them left the room, more than aware of the two sets of glares they received to the back of their heads.

XxX

Gilbert walked beside Madeline as they toured the large house, his hand occasionally brushing hers 'accidentally', making her blush when it happened, but she didn't seem to hate it.

Francis seemed to know something of interest about every room of the house, flamboyantly chatting as they went, but he purposefully walked slightly ahead to allow Gilbert to get closer to his daughter.

They reached the upstairs rooms when Francis suddenly faltered in his step, his words trailing off.

"Papa?" Madeline looked up cautiously, noticing the halt in the tour. Francis had stopped completely, placing one hand on the wall of the corridor as if to steady himself.

His head was suddenly spinning and he felt somewhat nauseous, but he forced a smile. "Ah – _oui_ , forgive me. I have come over weary all of a sudden…" he waited a moment and the nausea passed, but the dizziness remained.

"I wonder if you could continue the tour without me…" he conceded, wavering on his feet slightly.

Gilbert frowned in concern. "Sir, are you sure you're alright?"

Francis smiled weakly, nodding although he instantly regretted it as the action increased his dizziness. " _Oui, oui_ , of course." He waved a hand in dismissal. "I will just have a lie down for a minute, I think…"

Madeline and Gilbert both watched in concern as Francis retreated down the corridor slowly, back to his bedroom. Madeline could not hide her worry, nibbling her lip nervously, so Gilbert smiled and gently took her hand.

"I'm sure your father will be fine, Maddie…" he reassured, running a rough thumb over her delicate knuckles. Madeline blushed at the contact, but smiled softly and nodded, her violet eyes meeting Gilbert's crimson ones, and she felt herself relax.

The two of them continued the tour, with Madeline quietly pointing out certain paintings and such that Francis was fond of, but Gilbert wasn't paying much attention, instead opting to focus on Madeline's beauty. She was so innocent and sweet, untouched by the cruelty that the world could bring. Gilbert himself had been victim to it many a time, but he hoped that Maddie would never have to see it.

Eventually it grew late, and Gilbert realised he should leave before Arthur found out that Francis was no longer chaperoning his daughter. He grinned charmingly, gently kissing her pale knuckles.

"Well, goodnight Maddie. I hope to see you again~"

Madeline blushed darkly, but she nodded. She quickly made sure that neither Arthur nor Alfred were able to see them, before she reached up and pecked Gilbert's cheek ever-so-gently. Gilbert blinked, registering the feather-light touch of her soft lips, before he grinned widely.

"Goodnight, Gilbert…" Maddie replied, blushing even more darkly now, but Gilbert only found it endearing. He bowed to her, which made her giggle, before he saw himself out of the house. Madeline closed the door behind him, feeling her heart flutter as she did.

She really hoped her father would warm up to Gilbert, because he already had her heart.

* * *

 **A/N: So what did you think of Gilbert's impression on Madeline's family? Will Arthur warm up to him or not?**

 **Please review and let me know your thoughts~**

 **Thanks for reading x**


	12. Behind The Master's Back

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: Mentions of abuse.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

Arthur was restless. Francis had missed supper and he had not made an appearance since he had offered to lead a tour around the house for the albino man. The Englishman remembered how Francis had also behaved strangely after Arthur had yelled at him earlier, and he could not sleep until he found out exactly why his lover was acting so strangely.

He sighed, finding himself outside Francis' door. He knocked softly, and when there was no answer, he tried the door knob. He felt relief wash over him as he found the door unlocked, as Francis wasn't trying to keep him out. He pushed the door open gently, his emerald gaze resting on the sleeping figure of his lover in the bed.

Francis stirred slightly as Arthur came over, sensing his lover's eyes on him as it slowly roused him from his slumber. The Englishman smiled softly as he sat beside Francis, tucking his long blonde hair behind his ear affectionately as Francis opened his eyes. The Frenchman returned a soft smile, forgetting his earlier unease in his half-awake state. Arthur leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips in apology.

"I am sorry for losing my temper at you earlier, love…" he whispered, caressing Francis' cheek gently with his thumb.

Francis hesitated, remembering how angry Arthur had been, and he lowered his gaze, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have been so defiant towards you…You are the Master of the House after all…"

Arthur's expression softened as Francis slowly sat up, and he played with his silky golden hair admiringly. "That may be, but you are the Master of my heart, and it was inexcusable to shout at you."

Francis smiled softly at this as he loved how, when he chose to be, Arthur could be wonderfully romantic and affectionate. He leaned into his touch slightly.

Arthur hesitated a moment, before gently taking Francis' hand, rubbing his thumb over the Frenchman's knuckles. "Francis…Why did you behave so strangely afterwards? You…almost seemed like you weren't there."

Arthur noticed Francis' posture become slightly stiff, and he did not meet his gaze, only shrugging slightly.

"Francis, love, you can tell me…" Arthur coaxed, pecking his lips gently and tilting his chin up with his thumb and forefinger to meet his gaze again.

Francis swallowed somewhat nervously, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Because…it reminded me of…a terrible time…"

Arthur furrowed his brows slightly in confusion. "Do you mean back in France?"

Francis shook his head, fidgeting with the bed sheets nervously and knotting them in his fists. " _N-Non_ …here…"

"I don't understand, love…" Arthur placed his hand over Francis' to calm him, and it took a few long minutes of silence before Francis finally spoke again.

"Y-Your father…used to…a-abuse me…" his soft voice was shaky and barely audible, but Arthur widened his eyes.

"…My father?" he knew his father had never liked Francis, but he never knew the extent of the hatred the man felt towards his lover.

Francis nodded. "He gave me…the s-scars on my b-back…" he was trembling now, as he had managed to keep the abuse a secret from Arthur for so many years, and now he was afraid that Arthur would accuse him of lying to dirty his father's good name.

But Arthur did no such thing. Instead he pulled Francis into a strong but gentle hug, holding him close and stroking his hair. "Oh God…I-I never knew…"

Francis burst into tears, clinging to Arthur as if his life depended on it. He buried his face in Arthur's shirt, finally letting out all the fear and upset he had had to suppress for fear of Arthur finding out. Arthur could only hold his lover, whispering apologies to him over and over. When Francis eventually calmed his sobbing to only a few sad sniffs, Arthur cupped his face gently, wiping his tears away.

"I promise I will never shout at you again, love. I will never raise a hand to you or our children again, either…" his emerald eyes showed sincerity, and Francis nodded slowly, pecking his lips.

" _E-Et_ I promise not to keep secrets from you anymore…" he conceded, resting their foreheads together gently.

Arthur held Francis close, and that night the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms, Arthur holding Francis protectively and silently vowing that he would never let his lover get hurt again.

XxX

The next morning, Arthur woke up bright and early as he always did, for today was Sunday and therefore they would go to Church. He didn't wake Francis, knowing the Frenchman would wake soon anyway. Instead he bathed and dressed, before heading downstairs to have breakfast.

To his surprise, Francis was still not downstairs by the time he arrived, and he furrowed his brows slightly, but he just assumed that Francis was still emotionally drained from the night before.

Madeline and Alfred were sat at the table, already eating. They both smiled at Arthur when he came in, and Arthur returned the smile.

"Good morning, children." He greeted warmly, having grown very fond of them as the years passed.

"Good morning, Father." Madeline returned the greeting politely but quietly. Alfred only hummed in acknowledgement, far more interested in tucking into his food.

Arthur was slightly irritated by this but he let it go quickly, helping himself to some breakfast, before glancing at the clock.

Still no sign of Francis.

Pearce poured Arthur some tea from a freshly brewed china pot, and Arthur hummed. "Thank you, Pearce. Would you mind going upstairs to see if Francis is ready yet?"

Pearce nodded. "Of course, sir." He inclined his head in acknowledgement, before putting down the teapot and turning on his heel to leave the room.

Arthur stirred his tea, thinking back to Francis' admittance that Arthur's father had abused him. Pearce had probably known all this time and had also hidden it from Arthur at Francis' request.

He sighed softly, sipping his tea and picking at his breakfast, not so hungry anymore.

XxX

"Sir?" Pearce called, knocking on Francis' bedroom door for the second time. Again, Francis didn't respond, so Pearce entered the room quietly.

It was a Sunday morning, so usually Francis would have been dressed and downstairs by now, but Pearce was surprised to find Francis still asleep in his bed.

"Sir?" Pearce asked again, coming over to gently shake the Frenchman's shoulder. Francis let out a groan, not wanting to wake up. Pearce noticed with concern that Francis looked somewhat paler than was his usual complexion.

Francis dragged his eyes open with some effort, as they felt heavier than lead. He shifted under the covers, his whole body felt lethargic and he desperately didn't want to leave the warm comfort of his bed.

"Sir, it is a Sunday. Master Arthur sent me upstairs to see if you were ready…" Pearce explained, but he hesitated. "Should I inform Master Arthur that you are not well enough to attend Church?"

Francis heaved a sigh, before slowly sitting up. "Non…I'm alright…" his voice was somewhat slow, and it was as if Francis could not function any faster than a snail.

Pearce pursed his lips, hating that Francis was so foolishly stubborn, but he reluctantly helped the Frenchman to bathe and dress.

Francis continued to insist that he was perfectly fine, despite his limbs feeling like weights. He made sure he did not look anything less than in perfect health, before slowly making his way downstairs, to find his family waiting in the front hall.

"Ah – _pardonez moi_ …I was sleeping too deeply~" he chirped as brightly as he could, chuckling.

Arthur's lips twitched in a smile as he found it rather endearing, despite them now being late for Church. He handed Francis his coat, before ushering the children into the carriage that waited outside the door for them.

Francis pulled his coat on with some effort, feeling drained of strength, but he refused to give even a hint of his suffering away to Arthur, smiling when Arthur helped him into the carriage. He was secretly grateful for the assistance as he dropped into the seat opposite Alfred, and Arthur slid in next to him, opposite Madeline.

Pearce closed the carriage door for them, glancing at Francis uncertainly before bidding goodbye to the family. Arthur smiled as the carriage set off for the Church, not suspecting that anything might be wrong with his lover at all.

XxX

Arthur was seated next to Alfred as he usually was. Madeline sat next to her brother, with Francis on her other side at the end of the pew. The four were standing with the rest of the plentiful congregation, singing one of the traditional hymns that Madeline and Alfred knew well, as they had been brought up on such hymns. Arthur always sang softly, but he always listened for the more confident and accented singing voice of Francis, who was always audible.

But today Arthur heard no such voice. He glanced down the pew towards his lover, to see he was wavering on his feet slightly. Arthur furrowed his brows in concern, watching as Francis grasped the back of the pew in front of them to steady himself. He started trying to discreetly switch places with Alfred, but just as he got close enough, Francis excused himself quietly.

The Frenchman stepped out of the pew, heading swiftly for the Church doors. Arthur wanted to follow him to see if he was alright, but he knew he could not leave Alfred and Madeline alone in the Church. He could not help but notice another member of the congregation also leave the service only moments after Francis, but Arthur did not think much of it at that moment.

The Englishman waited anxiously for Francis to return, but the service continued and Francis only slipped back onto their pew as it was finishing. He looked pale and unsteady on his feet, and he sat down somewhat heavily, almost as if he fell into his seat. Arthur was now sat between Alfred and Madeline, and he wanted to reach out and grab Francis' hand, but he knew that it would be very unwise to reveal that he and Francis were so close, especially in a Church of all places.

After the service, Arthur temporarily lost track of Francis as the congregation mingled, but when he glimpsed him next, he saw the Frenchman conversing with Dr Silverman, the doctor who nursed Arthur's family when he was younger and who still treated his family when needed. Dr Silverman was not too old, but certainly older than Francis by around ten years or so. Still, the two seemed to be having a friendly conversation as if they were old friends, which Arthur supposed they were.

As Arthur came over, however, the conversation instantly stopped and Francis turned to him with a smile.

"Are you ready to head home, Arthur?" he asked innocently, ignoring the fact that he had had to leave the Church midway through the service and then returned without explanation. It was then that Arthur realised Dr Silverman had been the other person to leave the service and pursue Francis, and Arthur began to get a small feeling of dread and doubt knot in his stomach.

However he pushed it aside, nodding. "Alfred and Madeline are waiting outside."

Francis nodded, bidding goodbye to the good doctor before leaving the Church with Arthur.

Arthur tried to ask Francis why he left the service, but every time he tried, Francis would change the subject swiftly, effectively dodging the question. Arthur was slowly becoming more irritated by the evasive tactics of the Frenchman, but they arrived home before Arthur could properly get the truth out of his lover.

XxX

That night, Arthur was just leaving his study to go to bed, when he heard a murmured conversation in the hallway just around the corner. Usually, Arthur would have thought it ridiculous to go skulking around in his own home, but he recognised one of the voices to be Francis', and his curiosity was peaked.

"…This has to be strictly between you and I, Pearce…" Francis was saying in a low voice, and another voice sounded that Arthur identified as definitely belonging to the butler.

"But sir, I do not think you should be going behind Master Arthur's back – "

"You know very well I cannot tell him." Francis said shortly, his words slightly harsher than he intended, so he sighed. "I'm sorry, Pearce. I just – I just need to see the doctor without anyone else knowing…"

"But – "

"Please, Pearce. Please keep this secret for me." Francis tone was more gentle now, and Pearce sighed.

"…Of course, sir. But what if Master Arthur finds out?" the resignation in Pearce's voice was evident.

"He will not." Francis sounded adamant, and Arthur frowned.

So Francis was keeping secrets from him again? What could he want to see the doctor about that he wouldn't want to tell Arthur?

This thought made Arthur think that Francis did not want to see the doctor for medical purposes. Perhaps he found something alluring in the fact that Dr Silverman was older than him and still in good shape, but this thought made Arthur's blood boil.

He turned the corner, but both Francis and Pearce were no longer there.

* * *

 **A/N: Oooh, I wonder what is really going on with Francis?**

 **Please review and let me know what you think is going on~**

 **Thanks for reading x**


	13. Heartbreak (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter contains sexual themes~**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

It had been a few weeks since Arthur had overheard Francis' request of Pearce to invite Dr Silverman into the house discreetly, and Arthur had silently let the thought begin to fester in his mind that Francis was having relations with the 'good doctor'.

He finally decided to ask for information, not from Francis, but from his loyal butler instead.

"How long have you served my family, Pearce?" Arthur was sat on the sofa in the library, nursing a glass of whiskey. Pearce was stood on the other side of the coffee table, looking decidedly nervous.

"Around twenty-five years I believe, sir." The butler responded politely, his hands behind his back neatly.

Arthur nodded, sipping his drink slowly. "And as a result, I should hope you would feel some sense of loyalty towards me."

Pearce hesitated, already knowing that he was in dangerous territory from Arthur's tone. "Of course, sir…"

"The question is…whether you feel more loyal to Francis than me…" Arthur mused, swirling the amber liquid around his glass casually.

"…I'm afraid I do not follow, sir." The butler responded honestly, and Arthur lifted his gaze, staring hard at Pearce.

"I know Francis confides in you, Pearce. I know he is keeping a secret from me. I only wish to know what it is."

Pearce pursed his lips slightly, standing a little straighter. "Master Francis' secrets are not mine to disclose, sir."

At this, the Englishman frowned. "I am the Master of this House, Pearce. You should remember that before you decide to be so arrogant again."

"Forgive me, sir. I only meant that Master Francis has sworn me to secrecy, and I cannot betray that trust." Pearce explained calmly, but he knew how explosive Arthur's temper could become, especially when fuelled by alcohol.

Arthur's face was thunderous, not liking to be chastised by a servant like he was still a petulant child. "I demand that you tell me, damn it!" he slammed his glass down on the coffee table, spilling a few drops of whiskey on the polished surface as it sloshed out of the glass.

Pearce only looked at him, wondering when Arthur became such a brat. He refused to say another word, his expression showing he was not going to give in to Arthur's orders.

The two men fell silent, until eventually Pearce lowered his gaze. "May I be dismissed, sir? I have duties to attend to…"

The Master of the House glared, downing the rest of his drink before giving a small nod, waving his hand in dismissal as he knew he would not get any more information out of his loyal-to-a-fault butler.

XxX

Francis had been somewhat distant for over two weeks now, only confiding in Pearce. He tried his best to avoid Arthur, although Arthur interpreted this as Francis no longer having an interest in him. But Arthur decided to give Francis a chance to redeem himself, and he went to Francis' bedroom.

It was rather late, past midnight in fact, and Francis had retired hours ago. Arthur pushed open the door, not bothering to knock.

Francis was usually a heavy sleeper, and now he barely stirred when the light from the hallway spilled over his face. Arthur wondered if his suspicions were true, imagining Francis and Dr Silverman together, and his expression soured. But he pushed the thought aside, coming over and kissing along Francis' jaw to wake him up.

Francis groaned softly, mumbling something incoherent and trying to turn away from him. Arthur persisted though, gently rubbing Francis' arm.

"Francis, love…"

The Frenchman groaned again, slowly waking up. Arthur noticed his face seemed a bit thinner, his cheekbones more prominent, but he dismissed it as the lack of light in the room.

"…Arthur…?" he muttered sleepily, and Arthur smiled softly, continuing to kiss along his jaw.

Francis groaned again, but not in pleasure. " _M-Mon cher_ …not tonight…" he gently pushed against Arthur's chest, stopping him.

Arthur was more than put-out, and he frowned. "But we haven't done anything for weeks."

Francis sighed, turning away from him. "I'm too tired tonight, _cher…_ "

To Arthur, Francis' rejection only confirmed the suspicion that Francis was no longer interested in him, and he felt a strong pang of sadness and heartache.

"Francis…" he tried one more time, but Francis didn't respond, already slipping back into his slumber.

Filled with a sudden rage, Arthur stormed from the room, now convinced that Francis was being unfaithful to him.

XxX

 _Francis moaned as the good doctor thoroughly 'inspected' his patient. Dr Silverman smirked as he loomed over the Frenchman, his rough hands groping every part of Francis that he could. Francis mewled and whined, arching into his touch. He tangled a hand in the doctor's hair, fluttering his eyes closed in pleasure._

 _The doctor leaned down, kissing and sucking all the sensitive spots on Francis' neck to elicit whimpers of pleasure. Francis panted, gripping the bedsheets as Dr Silverman reached down, starting to undo Francis' trousers…_

Arthur woke up with a gasp, hot tears running down his cheeks. The dream had been so real and clear, as if Arthur had actually walked in on it. The Englishman sat up, rubbing his eyes furiously. He was alone in his bed, as he and Francis had not slept together for weeks. The idea of Francis' infidelity was now almost certain for Arthur, but there was still a part of him that wanted to give Francis the benefit of the doubt.

He desperately wished he could be certain either way, as the not knowing was becoming torturous for the Englishman. Arthur was trembling, and now he groped for his bedside table, finding a decanter he had filled with whiskey. He poured himself a glass blindly and with trembling fingers, as the bedroom was still dark in the early morning. He tilted the glass to his lips, feeling the welcome burn as the liquid slipped down his throat, and he gulped eagerly.

Arthur knew Francis didn't like it when he drank, but now he doubted whether Francis even cared about him anymore.

XxX

Pearce opened the front door, not surprised to see Dr Silverman standing there. Dr Silverman had been paying regular visits to Francis ever since the conversation they had shared at the Church, and the doctor understood the absolute discretion that Francis wanted. Pearce smiled politely, but he was more than unhappy about the doctor's presence. It meant that Francis was not at all as well as he pretended.

"Master Arthur has retired for the evening, so you may go and see Master Francis." Pearce said simply, and the doctor nodded.

"Thank you, Pearce." Dr Silverman handed Pearce his coat, before heading up the stairs to Francis' bedroom.

Pearce watched him go, only wishing that he could do more to help both of his Masters.

XxX

Madeline opened her eyes slowly, groggy from sleep, but a sound at her bedroom window had roused her. She did not know what the time was, or what could be making the sound. But she slipped out of bed, only in her nightdress. Her blonde hair fell down past her shoulders and her violet eyes were half-closed from sleep.

She drifted over to the window, drawing back the curtains to see if maybe a bird or something had flown up against the window. She let out a squeak of surprise as she saw Gilbert grinning on the other side of the window. Madeline forgot how indecent she was as she unlatched the window, pushing it up.

"G-Gilbert – what are you doing here…?" she whispered, not wanting her parents to wake up and find out Gilbert was here.

"I wanted to see you~" Gilbert responded simply, hopping through the window easily and brushing off his clothes.

Madeline smiled at this, before realising that she was only in her nightdress and she squeaked, pulling on her robe so she would be at least slightly more decent. "You shouldn't be here…If my Father finds out – "

Gilbert only smiled. "It is worth the risk, Maddie~" he grinned, before presenting her with a rose that he had undoubtedly swiped from someone's garden, but the sentiment was romantic and Madeline found herself blushing. She accepted the rose happily, gently inhaling the soft scent and appreciating the beauty of the simple gift.

"Thank you…" she murmured, putting the single rose in amongst the vase of flowers that she already had in her room.

Gilbert smiled, looking around her room with interest. Madeline found her gaze resting on him though, realising that he was indeed very handsome, and he must be very strong as well to have climbed up to her bedroom window without breaking a sweat.

She blushed darkly as her thoughts were in danger of becoming unladylike, and she tore her gaze away from him, pulling her robe around her more tightly.

Gilbert's gaze rested on Madeline, thinking she was the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen. In truth, he hadn't really planned to come here; it was a moment of spontaneity but he didn't regret it in the least.

He realised he should probably say something, as an awkward silence had fallen between them. "Um – you looked really beautiful at dinner the other day…"

Madeline blushed at this, but she smiled. "Thank you…" after a moment, she blushed even more darkly. "Y-You looked very handsome too…"

Gilbert grinned. "Your papa lent me some clothes so I wouldn't look like I came in off the streets." He let out a laugh, and this made Maddie relax.

She smiled, blushing again as his laugh made her heart flutter. "Well, they definitely suited you…"

She sat down on her bed, slightly surprised but not unhappy when Gilbert sat next to her.

" _Danke_ ~" Gilbert grinned, his crimson gaze making Madeline feel somewhat exposed, but she felt she could trust him.

The moonlight slipped in through the window, illuminating the two of them in a beautiful, pale glow. Madeline blushed again as Gilbert didn't tear his gaze away, and she looked down at her lap, not sure what to do.

Her breath hitched as Gilbert gently lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, his strong hands being ever-so-gentle with her.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen…" he breathed, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Madeline felt conflicted. She knew it was highly inappropriate for a young man to be in her bedroom late at night, but she couldn't help wishing Gilbert would close the distance between them.

Nothing happened for a moment, and Madeline was about to lose hope that Gilbert would do something. Then he did.

Slowly, the albino young man leaned in, capturing Madeline's soft lips in a chaste kiss. Maddie's eyes widened, as she had never been kissed before, but then her eyelids fluttered closed of their own accord and she leaned into him, returning the kiss in an inexperienced but caring manner.

Then, as quickly as the kiss had been initiated, it ended as Gilbert pulled back, for once a light blush dusted his usually pale cheeks.

"I – I should go before your parents find me in here…" he murmured, pulling back completely and standing up.

Madeline could only watch as he climbed back out of her window, her mind in a dazed state as she slowly processed the kiss they had shared. She smiled though, her fingers gently touching her lips in disbelief.

XxX

Arthur glared at the drink in his hand, having lost count already of how many he had had. His thoughts were consumed by imaginings of his beloved Francis moaning at the touch of another man, and nothing made him more angry or upset. He loved Francis so much that it hurt, and thinking of him being violated by the doctor made Arthur's heart shatter into a million pieces.

The Englishman downed the amber liquid that burned his throat, feeling his head spin a little as he laid back against the bed, closing his eyes and slipping into unconsciousness.

 _"Come here, mon cher~" Francis purred, looking as beautiful as ever in a simple robe, his golden hair framing his face and his cerulean eyes sparkling in the evening light._

 _Arthur swallowed, filled with love and desire as he crossed the room, placing a hand on the Frenchman's unblemished cheek. Francis smiled, leaning into his touch as he wound his arms around Arthur's neck. Arthur gasped as he felt Francis' soft lips against his earlobe, whispering sweet nothings before delivering a gentle nip to the delicate skin. Arthur let out a groan, snaking his arms around Francis' slim waist as he pulled his lover closer._

 _"I love you…" Arthur breathed, nuzzling Francis' neck and trailing kisses along the Frenchman's defined jaw. Francis hummed happily, tilting his head back as he pressed his chest closer to Arthur's._

 _"Je t'aime a-aussi~" Francis stuttered his words slightly as Arthur trailed a hand down to the Frenchman's crotch, pressing his palm against Francis' erection which elicited a moan from his lover. Arthur grinned as he started to unbutton Francis' simple white shirt, kissing over the exposed skin and listening to the mewls and groans of pleasure Francis let out in response._

 _Arthur guided Francis over to the bed, chuckling at the squeak Francis let out when he fell backwards against the soft mattress. The Englishman crawled over him, finally engaging Francis' lips in a passionate kiss. Francis hummed, kissing him back with just as much love and passion, their lips moving together so perfectly that Arthur couldn't help smiling into the kiss. He slipped one hand between Francis' legs, caressing the Frenchman's inner thigh and taking advantage of his gasp by slipping his tongue past Francis' lips._

 _Francis moaned as Arthur rubbed their tongues together, spreading his legs for his lover as he mumbled something into the kiss. Arthur smiled, breaking the kiss and pulling back an inch._

 _"Pardon, love?" he purred, grinning at the panting mess of his lover beneath him._

 _Francis opened his eyes slowly, having been caught up in the pleasure. "I-I said…make love to me, amour…~" he begged, winding his arms around Arthur's neck more as he mumbled the words against his lips._

 _Arthur let out a groan, only too happy to oblige as he kissed Francis hungrily, his hands roaming all over his lover's body. Francis let out a delicious moan, bucking his hips against Arthur's excitedly and begging him for more…_

Arthur jolted awake, taking a moment to realise it had all been a dream. Francis wasn't lying next to him, basking in the afterglow of their sex. His bed felt empty and too big, and Arthur felt his heart break as he missed Francis' familiar warmth. Fresh tears slipped down his cheeks as he reached for the bottle on his bedside table with a shaking hand, no longer bothering with the courtesy of using a glass to drink from.

XxX

Francis laid in his own bed, desperately wishing Arthur was beside him. Dr Silverman had finally confessed that he did not know what was wrong with him, but he knew Francis was deteriorating rapidly. The Frenchman felt tears well in his shimmering blue eyes as he had never felt so alone. But he couldn't tell Arthur. He couldn't bear to see the look of heartbreak on his lover's handsome face.

He didn't want to have to tell Arthur he was going to leave him.

He didn't know how to.

Francis finally let the tears fall, curling into the soft bedsheets for comfort, though it was a poor supplement for Arthur's warm embrace. His bony fingers trembled as they clutched at his plush pillow, his thin frame curling around the duvet like a scared child.

Francis just hoped that Arthur wouldn't be too heartbroken when he was gone.

* * *

 **A/N: Have some sadness! I know I haven't updated in a while but I've been very busy working and I haven't had too much inspiration. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **What did you think of Gilbert's bold actions?**

 **And how do you think Arthur is going to react when he finds out what is really going on?**

 **(Will he find out in time, or will it be too late?)**

 **Please review and let me know your thoughts!**


	14. Just Like Your Father

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **WARNING: this chapter contains violence. You have been warned~**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

A few days later, Francis had not seen Arthur at all. He had asked Pearce about him, and the butler had revealed that Arthur had not left his study. However, Pearce did not see fit to mention the fact that Arthur had been drinking himself into a stupor for the last few days. He knew that Francis had enough to worry about, and he did not want to add stress to the Frenchman's life.

But Francis' behaviour began to change more noticeably over the course of the few days. He had become more jittery and would flinch if Alfred spoke too loudly or if Madeline gently touched his arm without warning. He was much paler and his cheekbones were more defined. The Frenchman barely had any appetite anymore, and he even retired to his room before supper. Pearce had loyally taken a tray up to his bedroom, and had even tried to coax Francis to eat, but the Frenchman had vomited the tiny amount of food he had consumed back up, unable to keep anything down.

Pearce knew that Francis was becoming more and more sick with every passing day, and from what Francis told him and what he had heard from the doctor, there was no amount of medication sufficient to counteract it. The old butler cared deeply for the Frenchman as if he was his own son, and he was infuriated that Arthur was so blind to the suffering of his lover. But Francis had pleaded with Pearce to keep his secret, and the butler had never been able to refuse Francis.

Arthur had not emerged from his study, or even asked to see Francis. The Englishman had only asked Pearce to fetch Alfred and Madeline once, and that was to ask a simple question.

* * *

 _"Has Dr Silverman paid the two of you a visit?" Arthur asked simply, not standing from his desk or bothering to hide the decanter of whiskey in front of him._

 _Madeline and Alfred shared a nervous glance with each other, having not seen their father like this ever before. They had both sensed some sort of tension between their parents, and they had assumed that it was the reason behind their papa's loss of appetite and his more reclusive behaviour._

 _"No," Alfred answered before Madeline could. Not noticing the thunderous look in his father's eyes, Alfred continued. "Why would you ask?"_

 _Madeline was more perceptive than her brother, and she saw the flood of pain in Arthur's dulled green eyes as he heard Alfred's answer. When Arthur fell silent, not otherwise acknowledging the response, Madeline spoke up._

 _"Father? Is everything alright?" she asked gently, tentatively taking a step further into the room than her brother had. The study had never been so untidy: Arthur's papers were disorganised and in haphazard piles, some completed and others awaiting the contact of his pen. The stench of alcohol was almost overpowering, and Madeline felt somewhat nauseous. But still she took another step towards the Englishman._

 _Arthur's shoulders were slumped and he was staring at his hands, which were trembling as he held something small and delicate between his fingers. Madeline caught a glimpse of it, her curiosity getting the better of her._

 _"Father?" she laid a slender hand on his tensed shoulder, her voice soft. Arthur closed his eyes, thinking that Madeline's soft tone sounded like Francis' purr when he wanted something. But he didn't have the heart to shy away from his own daughter, so he sighed, holding it up as he opened his eyes again._

 _"My mother's ring…" the Englishman mumbled with a croak, holding the delicate silver ring between his thumb and forefinger so Madeline could see it. "When she was on her death-bed, she gave it to me." Arthur reached up, gently taking Madeline's pale hand in his, partly to show his affection for her, but Madeline also sensed he was searching for support._

 _"She told me…to give it to someone who made me the happiest man alive." Arthur tensed again, letting go of her hand and shoving the ring into his pocket almost harshly. "It's a pity I never met someone like that."_

 _Madeline flinched back; her father's words sounded so angry and full of loathing._

 _"What about Papa?" Alfred offered from his position in the doorway, as he and his sister were more than aware of Francis and Arthur's relationship._

 _But Arthur's gaze only hardened, becoming cold and defensive. "Especially not him" he spat, his voice as low as a growl. Madeline widened her violet eyes, having never seen Arthur act so hostile when he referred to Francis before._

 _The siblings swiftly left the room, knowing that whatever was happening between their parents was far more serious than either one was telling them._

* * *

Francis heaved for breath as he leaned over the sink, having once again brought back up what little food he had managed to eat. His body shook as he clutched the sides of the shiny, white sink with thin, frail fingers, and tears slipped down his hollowed cheeks as he hated vomiting, not to mention the constant ache he felt in his limbs. It was getting harder and harder for the Frenchman to keep on his feet without wavering, and he knew that it would be only a matter of time until his legs gave out completely.

Letting out a groan of pain and exhaustion, Francis stepped back from the sink, still gripping the sides tightly to keep his balance. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, only it wasn't him anymore. The man staring back at him was almost skeletal, with dull grey eyes and a porcelain complexion. There were small bald patches where his beloved hair had fallen out, and although Francis did his best to conceal them, it was becoming harder with his remaining hair turning coarse and brittle. His frame was thin and fragile, as if he might shatter at any moment.

Francis found himself staring at a nightmare, as his reflection made him face his own deterioration, and he shook more at the sight. Slowly, the Frenchman lifted the small bucket of cold water, pouring the water into the sink to wash away the mess, but even the weight of the bucket was enough to make him stumble backwards, and Francis gasped as he sloshed the freezing water all over the bathroom floor.

Francis felt fresh tears well in his eyes as even the most insignificant event was enough to upset him in his less than healthy state. He dropped the bucket, unable to hold it for any longer. The metal bucket clattered horribly against the polished, white tiles but Francis didn't care, letting out a sob as he sank to his knees, clutching his frail hair.

The sick Frenchman felt so alone, wanting nothing more than to be comforted by the strong embrace of his English lover, but he knew what Arthur thought of him, and Francis knew it was a kinder lie than to face the truth. He buried his face in his hands, muffling his sobs as he curled up against the bathroom wall, praying that Arthur would not think too badly of him in his final days.

XxX

It was a late hour when Pearce knocked softly on Francis' bedroom door. The Frenchman was in bed, but despite his overwhelming fatigue, he could not sleep. Softly, he granted Pearce entrance to the room in a croaky, weak voice.

The loyal butler entered, hesitating as he knew very well what state Francis was in, and yet he had clear instructions from the Master of the House.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, sir, but Master Arthur has requested your presence in the study…" Pearce tried to keep the concern out of his voice, but he couldn't hide it in his aged features.

Francis, however, gave a small nod. With some effort, he slowly sat up. His limbs were leaden but he forced his body to get out of bed, staggering slightly. Pearce was at his side in moments, helping the Frenchman to dress in clothes that were once a perfect fit and now hung off him entirely too large.

"Sir…" Pearce began, seeming apprehensive as he helped Francis to stand.

" _Oui_?" The Frenchman replied casually, trying to repress the screaming agony that occurred with even the slightest movement.

"…I think you should be careful…Master Arthur has been drinking fairly heavily, and he thinks – "

"I know what he thinks." Francis cut him off, already aware that Arthur fully accepted the idea of him being unfaithful. It hurt him immensely, but he knew it was more merciful than the truth.

"But sir – " Pearce attempted once again to intervene, but Francis offered a small, wobbly smile.

"Pearce, There is nothing to worry about. Arthur would never hurt me…never."

And with that, the frail Frenchman slowly and gingerly made his way to Arthur's study, praying that Arthur wouldn't notice the drastic turn his health and appearance had taken.

XxX

Francis felt a cold sweat break out over his skin as he stood outside the study door. He had a bad feeling about this, but he kept reassuring himself with the knowledge that Arthur loved him. He would never lay a hand on him in an unloving way.

With that in mind, he knocked softly on the study door.

"Come in, Francis."

The response was soft, and somewhat stern, but Francis could detect a very slight slur as Arthur said his name. It made Francis dread entering the room, but he pushed the feeling away, opening the door and coming inside.

Arthur was sat at his desk again, but there was only one item on the polished wooden surface now. A ring. A ring that Francis recognised vaguely, though he couldn't quite place it. The papers that had previously been on the desk were now littered all over the carpeted floor, discarded or possibly swept aside in rage.

"Y-You wanted to see me, _mon cher_?" Francis began, standing as straight as he could despite the protest from his legs and lower back.

Arthur hummed slightly in thought, as if thinking about what he had called Francis into his study for. "Ah yes, of course." His tone was overly formal and polite, but there was a look in Arthur's eyes that suggested threat. "I heard Dr Silverman has been coming over frequently."

Francis tensed, his head swimming somewhat as he felt ill again. "Ah – _o-oui_ …he came to check on the children…"

Arthur finally turned to look at him, a small smirk on his features as his dulled green eyes flashed dangerously. "Is that so?"

" _Oui_ …" Francis confirmed, wishing Arthur wasn't occupying the only seat in the room.

The Englishman was staring at Francis with a challenging look, as if daring him to continue further with the lie.

"Now that's curious…because I happened to ask Madeline and Alfred if Dr Silverman had come to see them." He paused, playing with the ring idly. "They said he hadn't."

Francis hesitated at this, leaning slightly against a chaotically dumped stack of books for some support. His head was throbbing, and although he knew Arthur wanted answers, he was having serious trouble focusing on the Englishman.

When Francis failed to respond, Arthur frowned, clenching his hand into a fist which contained the ring. "What the hell are you playing at, Francis?" he demanded, in a much more menacing, raised voice.

Francis flinched, fighting a wave of nausea. "I-I don't know what you're – " his stuttering was interrupted as Arthur's voice flooded with a sudden rage.

"Stop lying to me!" Arthur yelled, making fear course through Francis. The Frenchman fell silent, trembling slightly as he focused enough to see the clear anger on Arthur's face.

 _He looks just like his father._

Francis' heart panged as he knew he couldn't ease Arthur's suspicions. "I – Arthur, _mon amour_ – "

"Don't fucking call me that!" The Englishman screamed, slamming his fist against the desk so hard that Francis jumped, knocking over the stack of books behind him and losing his balance somewhat.

Arthur watched his French lover, not noticing his instability or the fact that he seemed disoriented.

Francis managed to regain his footing, shaking like a leaf as he was terrified to face his drunken lover now.

Arthur's shoulders were rising and falling as he seethed with anger, images of Francis mewling under Dr Silverman filling his mind and clouding his judgement, the alcohol he had consumed acting as a catalyst and making him explosive.

Francis knew that it was dangerous to say the wrong thing, and he badly wanted to run from the room, away from the man who was now making his stomach twist into knots.

"I – I think I should go…" Francis excused himself meekly, turning to leave the study, but instead of diffusing the situation, it only escalated.

Arthur erupted.

"How dare you walk away from me?!" he yelled angrily, striding across the room and grabbing Francis harshly by the arm.

Francis let out a yelp as his delicate skin was gripped too hard. "A-Arthur, you're hurting me!" he whined, but Arthur didn't seem to care.

Instead he pressed his face close to Francis', the alcohol on his breath triggering another wave of nausea through the Frenchman. "I took you in." he hissed. "I gave you everything you have today, and you repay me by whoring yourself out to some old man?!"

Arthur was shouting in his face now, and Francis was too shocked at the outburst to respond, tears slipping down his cheeks as he tried to pull away. "I-I'm not a whore – " he whispered.

Arthur saw red. Francis' constant denial and his drunken state sent the Englishman over the edge and he lashed out, striking Francis hard across the cheek with the back of his hand.

Francis felt the pain explode in his cheek before he even realised he was sprawled on the floor. Arthur had hit him with such force that he was even more disoriented. He was vaguely aware of the door opening again, and strong, familiar arms gently scooped him up. Francis groggily caught sight of Arthur, still on the other side of the room, and he lolled his head back enough to see Pearce holding him. The butler had heard the commotion and had not been able to keep from interfering this time.

Pearce pulled Francis to his feet, allowing the Frenchman to lean heavily against him as he began guiding Francis from the room.

Francis went with him, but stopped in the doorway, turning back to Arthur with a look of hatred in his eyes that he had never gazed at Arthur with before.

"You're just like your father." Francis whispered, before letting Pearce take him away.

Arthur stood there, finally realising what he had done as Francis' words fell on him like a tonne of bricks.

He hit him.

He struck his own lover.

His lover who had been abused by his father and was traumatised because of it.

And now Arthur was just like him.

The Englishman dropped to his knees, bursting into sobs as he was overcome by guilt and regret.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm a horrible person, I know~**

 **So…thoughts on this chapter?**

 **Also, fair warning, it only gets sadder from now on.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think!**


	15. Abandoned Flowers, Abandoned Hate

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **WARNING: contains sadness...**

 **Okay, since you were all so quick to read and review, I have good news and bad news~**

 **The good news is, I have updated more quickly because you've been so supportive and devoted to this story...**

 **But the bad news is - it gets really really sad now...**

 **Anyway...enjoy! x**

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

Arthur groaned as he slowly dragged his eyes open. His eyelids felt heavy and his head was pounding as if an immense pressure was pushing against his skull. Looking around, the Englishman realised he was on the floor of his study. He must have passed out after drinking too much last night, and he could not remember anything. Come to think of it, he was struggling to remember the whole day, but he had an unsettling guilt in his stomach that he couldn't shift nor explain.

He let out a groan as he slowly stumbled to his feet, wincing at the protesting throb his head gave. Leaning against the desk, Arthur noticed all the papers scattered over the floor and the stack of books was knocked over, and he furrowed his brows in confusion.

A knock sounded at the door, and Arthur winced despite the light sound.

"Come in…" his voice was groggy and somewhat hoarse, as if he had been shouting or yelling before. He was expecting Francis, and he was both surprised and disappointed when Pearce entered the room. At least the butler could provide some enlightenment for him.

Usually Pearce would have greeted him with a polite "Good morning, sir", but now the old man just looked at Arthur, disappointment flooding his greying eyes.

"Pearce…" Arthur had never seen the condemning expression on the butler's face before, especially not directed at him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Pearce's expression was stern and almost hostile, a stark contrast to the soft spot he usually had for Arthur. "You have gone too far this time, sir."

"Pardon?" Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Forgive me for speaking so plainly, sir. But do you not remember what you did last night?" The butler had been patient with his Master for so long, but now his patience was wearing thin.

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I don't know what you are referring to – "

Pearce sighed, for once breaking out of his usual stiff posture. "You hit Master Francis." He said simply.

Arthur blinked. "I – What?"

"You hit him, sir." Pearce's voice was neutral enough but Arthur heard the underlying tone of upset in the butler's words.

This time the realisation hit him hard, as if he had been the one who had been struck. He suddenly remembered striking Francis, seeing the look of hatred and betrayal in his Frenchman's eyes as he told Arthur he was just like his father. His mouth felt dry and his head pounded mercilessly, but his heart ached the most.

He had hurt Francis.

Something he had promised he would never, ever do.

The whole night came back to him, and he remembered accusing Francis of infidelity and calling him a whore as well. The guilt came crashing back down upon him, and he felt suffocated suddenly by the stuffy, stale study.

"I – need some air…" Arthur grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, running a hand through his unruly blonde hair to try and neaten it. He knew he looked awful, but he wanted to go for a walk to clear his head.

Pearce stepped aside to allow Arthur to leave, not saying another word. The Englishman strode past him, hesitating outside Francis' bedroom door for a moment, but he felt too ashamed to see him. So instead he kept walking, going down the wide, marble staircase and exiting the house as swiftly and quietly as he could.

XxX

An hour later, Arthur had still not returned. Pearce waited by the front door anxiously, wishing that Arthur would return and make it up to Francis. When there was a knock at the door, Pearce almost lunged for the door handle, opening it quickly.

But Gilbert was standing there, a smile on his features as he was blissfully unaware of the disappointment Pearce managed to conceal.

"Mr Beilschmidt. We were not expecting your visit…" Pearce greeted as politely as he could.

Gilbert grinned somewhat sheepishly, and Pearce raised an eyebrow as he spotted some freshly picked – likely stolen – flowers in the albino young man's hand. "Is Madeline available to see me?"

Pearce frowned. "Miss Bonnefoy," he emphasised the way that Gilbert should properly address her, "is involved in her studies."

Gilbert only smirked. "Will you let her know I'm here?"

The butler seemed to disapprove, but Gilbert pushed past him and into the front hall. "Just a minute, sir – "

"Gilbert~" A soft voice came from the top of the stairs, and both men looked up to see Madeline in a beautiful cream dress, one that Francis had bought for her. Her hair was tied back into a simple bun, but she looked so effortlessly beautiful that Gilbert's heart skipped a beat.

"Madeline!" he grinned, presenting the flowers to her as she came down the stairs. "I brought you flowers~"

The young girl smiled, gently taking the flowers and dipping her head, smelling the sweet, subtle fragrance the flowers emitted. Gilbert swallowed as he noticed how her long, blonde eyelashes stroked her cheeks, half-hiding her amethyst eyes briefly. He felt almost lost in her beauty and he found himself smiling dreamily. Madeline lowered the flowers again, holding them gently as she played with the soft petals.

"They're beautiful~" she returned his smile happily, her violet eyes sparkling as they always did when she met his crimson gaze. "Thank you, Gilbert…"

Pearce watched them with the eye of an overprotective parent, knowing it was not his place to intervene but it was his duty to look after Madeline.

"Pearce, would you put these in some water for me, please?" Madeline asked gently, handing the flowers to Pearce. The butler nodded, not wanting to leave them alone together, but he did as he was bid. To his relief, however, Alfred came up from the kitchens at that moment.

He was chewing on a freshly-made bread roll, but he paused mid-chew when he saw Gilbert with his sister. Narrowing his baby-blue eyes, Alfred always made it clear that he didn't like Gilbert at all, and now was no exception.

"What are you doing here?" Alfred asked, none-too-kindly.

Gilbert only smirked. "Good morning to you too, Alfred."

Alfred scowled. "Don't make me ask you again."

Madeline furrowed her brows slightly. "He just came over to visit, Alfred…" she tried to pacify her brother with a reassuring smile.

"Are you boys fighting again?" Francis appeared at the top of the stairs, his French accent lacing the words more heavily from his fatigue. But still he managed a smile, gripping the top bannister for support.

Gilbert and Alfred both looked up and both smiled. Francis had been a rather rare sight the past few weeks, but the three of them all noticed how different the Frenchman looked.

"No, sir." Gilbert straightened up respectfully. Alfred merely scoffed, taking another bite of his bread roll.

Madeline smiled. "Good morning, Papa~" she greeted happily, and Francis returned her sweet smile. There was a slight shadow on his left cheek that Madeline noticed, but she guessed it was just the way the sunlight illuminated his features.

"Good morning, all of you~" Francis returned the greeting, and began descending the flight of stairs. All of a sudden, though, his vision began to swim and he felt his legs finally buckle under him.

Madeline shrieked as she watched her Papa fall down the stairs, his body seeming to crack and snap against the marble steps. Time seemed to stop for a moment as Francis came to a stop at the foot of the stairs, unconscious. The side of his head was bleeding and the blood was slowly soaking into his long blonde hair.

Alfred dropped his bread roll and he and Gilbert both rushed to the foot of the stairs. Pearce heard Madeline's shriek and he dropped the vase he was holding, the fresh flowers abandoned as he ran into the front hall.

Madeline stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes wide and fearful as she just stared at her beloved Papa, trembling.

Pearce was the first one to properly act, seeming to forget his position as a servant as he began to bark orders. "Alfred, go fetch Dr Silverman right away!"

Alfred didn't seem to hear him the first time, but the butler gave Alfred a small shove which set him in motion, and the boy ran from the house.

"Mr Beilschmidt, help me take Master Francis upstairs." Pearce began lifting the Frenchman gently, being careful not to hurt him, but Francis was limp in his arms, and he weighed almost nothing.

Gilbert nodded, following Pearce's lead and supporting Francis' legs as the butler lifted Francis under the arms. Together, they carried Francis up the stairs to his bedroom, and Madeline watched small droplets of blood stain the marble steps as Francis was lifted. She snapped out of though as she rushed after them, the hem of her cream dress ruined by blood as she moved up the stairs.

Pearce laid Francis gently on the bed, tending to him and making him comfortable, before getting a damp cloth from the basin of water in the bedroom. Slowly, gently, the butler dabbed at the side of Francis' head, cleaning the blood from his temple with a trembling hand.

Madeline stood in the doorway, her voice barely above a whisper. "W-Where's F-Father?"

Pearce hesitated, sparing her a sympathetic glance. "Master Arthur went for a walk…an hour ago."

The young girl felt tears prick her eyes as she sobbed. "H-He should be here…P-Papa n-needs him!" she rushed to the other side of Francis' bed, wanting to hold his hand but she was too scared to hurt him.

"He'll come back. He'll be here…" Pearce said, more to himself than to Madeline.

Gilbert had fetched more pillows from the spare bedrooms, and now he came back in, carefully arranging them to support Francis. Seeing Madeline's distress though, the albino young man went to her side, gently embracing her.

"It's alright, Maddie…your Papa's going to be fine…" he mumbled, trying his best to comfort her by rubbing her shoulders as he felt Madeline trembling.

Pearce's face was stone as he smoothed Francis' hair away from the wound on his head, but he didn't dare inspect any of the other wounds for fear he may hurt Francis further. They would just have to wait for the doctor…

XxX

Arthur had lost track of time, roaming the streets of London until his feet ached and his cheeks turned red from the cold. Eventually he decided to head back to the house, and he was across the street when he saw his son, Alfred, tugging the sleeve of Dr Silverman. Arthur's expression turned to a scowl, before he noticed the frantic, upset look on Alfred's face. The two ran into the house, and Arthur suddenly had a deep feeling that something was terribly wrong.

The Englishman dashed across the street, making it quickly to his house and pushing the door open. The first thing he saw was the drying blood on the pure white staircase, and he felt sick with dread.

 _Was Madeline hurt?_

It was his first thought, as she always seemed so young and delicate, and Alfred was fiercely protective of her.

Breaking into a run, he climbed the stairs as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his chest. He was running towards Madeline's bedroom, but he stopped as he saw Alfred in the doorway of a different room.

 _Francis' bedroom._

Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion, slowing to a halt. "Alfred?"

Alfred jumped, turning to him, and Arthur saw the tear tracks staining his cheeks. The boy couldn't summon any words, but he just stepped aside, urging Arthur into the room.

Arthur entered, seeing Pearce and Dr Silverman leaning over the bed. Madeline was sat in a chair by the bedside, Gilbert standing behind her with a hand on her shoulder. There was only one person he hadn't seen yet.

All too soon, Pearce saw the Englishman, and he stepped back so that Arthur could see.

Arthur's heart stopped.

There was Francis, the only man he had ever loved, lying broken and bloody in his bed, cushioned by soft pillows like he was a fragile jewel, as beautiful as a diamond but shattered like glass.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. All he could do was make a strangled noise of pain and grief.

 _No, not him._

 _Not Francis._

* * *

 **A/N: ….**

 **I'm sorry! Xxxxxxx**

 **But it's not over yet, I promise!**

 **Please review because the more you review the quicker I will update to let you know what happens next~~**


	16. Broken And Bruised

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Happy Valentine's Day! To celebrate, have some painful and sad FrUK because I love you~**

 **I wasn't going to write this today but because you all asked so nicely (by which I mean screamed at me not to leave it there) here you are~**

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

Arthur sat in the chair beside Francis' bed, his cheeks wet with tears. He was holding Francis' hand ever-so-gently, afraid to hurt him but he wanted the frail Frenchman to know that he was there. Pearce had taken Madeline and Alfred downstairs, and now only Dr Silverman was in the room with Arthur and the unconscious Francis.

They were silent as Dr Silverman examined Francis, a glum expression on the doctor's face. Eventually, Arthur broke the silence softly.

"…How long has he been sick?" the Englishman asked. He could see now how much Francis had deteriorated, and he knew it wasn't just from falling down the stairs.

Dr Silverman sighed. "A few months, at least."

"Months?" Arthur glanced up at the doctor, shocked. He had not known it had been so long.

Dr Silverman nodded. "Francis asked me not to tell you…he knew it would upset you, so I visited him to monitor the illness discreetly…"

Arthur' lower lip wavered as it all made sense now. Francis had been sick and he was trying to hide it so that Arthur wouldn't worry about him.

"S-So…how do we cure him?"

The question seemed obvious, but at the same time so did the answer.

"Mr Kirkland…I'm afraid I've never seen an illness like this. It cannot be cured…" the doctor said softly. "Besides, with the injuries he has sustained…" he trailed off, leaving the obvious implication unsaid.

Arthur sighed shakily, rubbing his thumb gently over Francis' knuckles. "…Francis is dying…" he whispered, and the reality of it finally sunk in.

Dr Silverman nodded. "I'm very sorry, Arthur, but there is nothing I can do to stop it…"

Arthur only gave a small nod. "…Thank you, doctor…"

The doctor placed some bottles on the bedside table. "If he wakes up, these will help with the pain. The illness has made his bones brittle and a lot of them broke or fractured…his body isn't healthy enough to try and heal by itself, so I can only dull the pain for him…"

Arthur knew the doctor was trying to make Francis' last days as comfortable as possible for him, but Arthur still could not bear the thought that Francis was going to die.

"I'll leave you alone with him for a while…" Dr Silverman muttered, taking his leave from the room.

Arthur allowed his gaze to drift back to Francis. He was so thin and pale, so fragile. He was broken and bruised, but still beautiful.

He gently caressed Francis' cheek, holding back sobs as he prayed that Francis would at least wake up. Arthur wanted to apologise to his lover, he wanted to take back being so harsh and horrible to him.

He wished he had never hit Francis, or yelled at him or even allowed his father to treat Francis the way he had. He only now realised just how much he had taken Francis for granted, and he wished he could go right back to the beginning, from the moment he had first found him in the alleyway. He wished he had spent every waking moment with Francis, telling him how much he loved him and cherishing him.

"Wake up, love…" Arthur whispered, pressing his lips gently to Francis' forehead. "Open your beautiful eyes for me…"

Francis didn't respond, his breathing regular as if he was sleeping. Arthur fought back the tears that threatened to appear, cupping Francis' face gently as he kissed him softly and sweetly.

Arthur stayed with Francis for the whole day, and when night came and the Frenchman still hadn't stirred, the Englishman decided to sleep in the chair by his bedside, so that he would not miss anything if Francis woke up in the night.

XxX

Hours turned into days with Francis not even opening his eyes, but Arthur did not leave his side for a moment. Pearce brought Arthur meals on a tray, but the Englishman hardly touched them, far too worried about his lover to eat.

Madeline and Alfred came to visit their Papa every day, but Arthur insisted that they continue with their studies and daily activities where they could. So most of the day saw Arthur alone in the room with Francis, willing him to even twitch to give Arthur a sign that he was alright.

On the fourth day, Arthur was beginning to lose hope as he sat by Francis' bed, turning his mother's ring over and over in his hands. He watched the way the jewel caught the sunlight and made it sparkle, thinking it reminded him of the way Francis' eyes would sparkle.

A soft groan alerted Arthur to Francis stirring, and the Englishman widened his eyes as he saw Francis shift slightly under the bedcovers.

"Francis?" Arthur leaned closer, keeping his voice soft so as not to startle the Frenchman. Francis slowly dragged his eyes open, not able to focus on anything at first, but at the sound of Arthur's voice, Francis slowly drifted his gaze over to where Arthur was sitting.

"…Ar-Arthur…?" the Frenchman let out a soft whimper as he tried to move, but the only response was a flare of pain in his legs and lower back.

Arthur reached over him to the bedside table, rummaging through some of the bottles the doctor had left. Some were pills, some were pale, translucent liquids, and Arthur had no knowledge of which ones to give and when. Praying for the luck to select the right one, he took one of the liquids and poured some into a small glass for the Frenchman, before gently supporting the back of Francis' head with his right hand, holding the glass in his left. He gently tilted the glass against Francis' lips, and obediently the Frenchman took a small sip.

Arthur forced a soft smile. "That's it, love…" he coaxed quietly, and Francis took another sip before pulling back slightly, not wanting any more. The Englishman relented, putting the glass back on the bedside table.

The pale liquid seemed to be a rather strong medication, as Francis laid back with a sigh, already feeling the pain drift away.

Taking Francis' frail hand gently, Arthur decided to perch on the bed next to the Frenchman, and he noticed how Francis' eyes weren't sparkling, and instead they were slightly glazed from the pain or the medication, Arthur wasn't sure which.

"Francis," he began softly, and his lover's gaze drifted wearily to him, as if it was a great effort to do so.

"… _Oui…mon cher_ …?" his voice was much softer, barely above a whisper, and it lacked his usual flair and teasing flamboyance. Now it was weak and struggling, and Arthur's heart broke. He leaned down, kissing Francis' forehead softly.

"Please…" he whispered, his lips brushing the Frenchman's forehead as he spoke. "Forgive me…"

Francis tried to look up at him, but a searing protest of pain in his skull made him close his eyes instead, forgetting the response he had just been so intent on giving.

Arthur cupped Francis' face gently, now face to face with him. "I never meant to hurt you…I never deserved such a beautiful man as you, love…"

Francis opened his eyes again, seeing Arthur right there in front of him, but he smiled as he stared into mourning, emerald eyes. "…so beautiful…so green…like jewels…" he thought aloud, his accent much thicker as the medication was causing him to drift away from the present reality.

Arthur realised this, and tears welled in his eyes again. He wanted to apologise properly, but Francis was in no condition to receive it. But he saw the lazy smile on the Frenchman's worn features, and he forced a smile of his own, doubting that Francis even knew what had happened to him.

The Englishman gently pressed his lips against Francis' in a soft kiss, and he felt the Frenchman slowly return it. For a moment, Arthur could pretend that Francis was just half-asleep, and he imagined that he had woken up after they shared a passionate night together. As much as he tried to hold onto that thought, he couldn't when Francis pulled back and laid his head back against the soft pillows, closing his eyes.

Arthur let him sleep, still adamant that he would not leave his side, though. He returned to the armchair, keeping a protective hold of Francis' hand even as his eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep with his head against Francis' arm.

XxX

 _Arthur was silent as a mouse as he quietly eased the door open to Francis' bedroom. His intention was to scare Francis, as the eighteen year old always screamed like a girl and it was hilarious, but he paused as he saw Francis sat at his mirror, brushing his hair gently so it framed his face beautifully._

 _Fifteen year old Arthur felt a flutter in his chest as he was painfully aware of how attractive the older boy was, and he knew he couldn't act upon it the way he wanted to, so he would settle for hugging him or teasing him, anything to gain the Frenchman's attention._

 _Remembering his earlier intention, Arthur snuck into the room, making sure Francis could not see him in the mirror, before grasping the older boy's shoulders and shouting. "Francis!"_

 _Francis let out a scream of surprise, flinching and whirling around, before his cerulean eyes narrowed at Arthur. "Why must you always do that?!"_

 _The English boy just laughed as Francis' face was set in a firm pout._

 _"Because you always scream like a girl!" he retorted, still laughing._

 _Francis only frowned, hating it when Arthur scared him and so he just returned to brushing his hair, not replying._

 _Arthur noted Francis' silence and he stopped laughing, instead letting out a heavy sigh. "You're too sensitive…" he poked Francis' shoulder gently, but again Francis didn't acknowledge him, just continuing to brush his hair._

 _Now it was Arthur's turn to pout. "I was only having fun…!" he tried to justify, hoping that Francis would crack a smile, but the Frenchman just kept ignoring him, and Arthur feared that maybe he really had tested Francis' patience too much. Maybe he hated him now._

 _"Francis...I'm sorry…I won't do it again, I promise!" Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis' neck in a hug from behind, missing the tiny smirk on Francis' features._

 _As much as Arthur could manipulate Francis into fear, Francis could manipulate Arthur into guilt._

 _Deciding he had tortured Arthur enough, the French boy whirled around, pulling the stunned English boy into his lap and grinning as he began mercilessly tickling him._

 _Arthur gasped and squirmed, shrieking for him to stop but he couldn't help laughing. Francis laughed too, knowing exactly where Arthur was the most ticklish._

 _"This is what you get for scaring me, mon cher~" he purred mischievously, his slender fingers tickling Arthur's chest and the most sensitive spot between his shoulders and neck._

 _"Ah! F-Francis! Stop it – Ahaha!" Arthur gasped for breath in between laughs, trying to grab Francis' arms to stop him. Francis moved his arms, ceasing his tickling and pulling Arthur into a firm hug instead._

 _Arthur smiled, burying his face against Francis' perfumed shirt. "Idiot…" he mumbled._

 _Francis smirked. "Quoi? What was that? You want to be tickled some more?" he teased, moving his arms as if he was about to resume his tickling onslaught._

 _"No!" Arthur pleaded, hugging Francis' chest tightly as if the affection would stop the evil Frenchman._

 _Francis just laughed again, ruffling Arthur's hair affectionately._

 _Arthur pouted, but he hid his smile against Francis' chest, and the two of them stayed in each other's arms, until Arthur felt his eyelids grow heavy and he closed his eyes, leaning against Francis more. After a few minutes, he felt Francis kiss his forehead, and he smiled softly, knowing that the Frenchman thought he was asleep._

XxX

Arthur woke up slowly, realising that he had been dreaming of when he and Francis were much younger, and he felt a pang of sadness as he knew they would not share such moments again. Francis was still asleep, his lips parted slightly and he looked peaceful in a morbid sense. Arthur stroked Francis' cheek gently, wishing he could at least make Francis happy in his final days, but he knew he had messed up too badly in the past to make it all up to his beloved Frenchman now.

Letting out a choked sob, Arthur prayed that Francis would somehow make it through all this, although he knew it would be in vain. Still, he could live in the hope that one day he and Francis could share a bed again, greet each other with a good morning kiss and he would see that beautiful, enticing smile he had fallen in love with years ago.

But it was impossible now.

* * *

 **A/N: muhahaha did you think I would just give you the end of the story? I'm a cruel person, so I'm spanning it out just for all of you~~**

 **So no, this isn't the end. And be prepared, because the next chapter is MUCH sadder. You have been warned.**

 **Anyway, pretty please review and let me know what you thought of Arthur's remorse and how Francis can't even accept his apology because he's so out of it?**

 **ALSO: please don't have the same attitude to medication that Arthur did, Arthur could well have killed Francis by randomly selecting a type and dosage of medication, so please don't follow his lead!**

 **Love you all~**


	17. Serre-Moi

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **WARNING: Yes, it's finally going to happen – this chapter includes major character death. If you don't like it, what on earth have you been reading this story for? XD**

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

It had been two full weeks since Francis' fall down the stairs, and the frail man's condition only worsened with each passing day. Arthur faithfully never left his side, wanting to be there for every second just in case Francis needed him, although most of what tumbled from the Frenchman's lips now was incoherent, a jumble of French or broken English. It broke Arthur's heart, but still he clung to every nonsensical declaration Francis made as if it was the most important thing in the world.

Now, Arthur was sat in the same place he had been sitting for two weeks: the small, hard chair by Francis' bed. He was holding Francis' hand gently, rubbing the delicate knuckles and pretending not to notice how the Frenchman's skin stretched over the bones.

"Arthur…" Francis mumbled, his accent almost as thick as it had been when he had first come to England, but Arthur had grown used to deciphering his words by now.

The Englishman looked up at Francis' deathly pale features, smiling softly. "Yes, my love?"

Francis turned his head slowly, looking directly at him. This surprised Arthur, as Francis hadn't really seemed to be aware of his presence much these days, but now Arthur was certain that Francis was the most coherent he had been since being bed-ridden.

"How is it…that…you and I have been…together for so many years…and we have not married?" It took Francis a while to get the words out, and Arthur expected him to just be teasing, but his heart panged as he realised that Francis was just as delirious as he had been the rest of the day, thinking that he and Arthur could possibly get married in their society.

But he saw the hopeful expression twinkling in Francis' beautiful eyes, and he didn't have the heart to dissuade him. Instead, he smiled again. "Because I have been stupid enough not to ask you…" he replied in a soft voice.

Francis stared at him for a long moment, his eyes flitting ever so slightly as he took in Arthur's features. Eventually, he smiled weakly. "You would be…a very…handsome groom, _mon amour_ …~"

Something about Francis' smile drew Arthur in, and he knew that Francis didn't have long left, so he would do anything to make his last moments the happiest. Shifting slightly in his seat, Arthur reached into his pocket, taking out his mother's ring.

He held it between his thumb and forefinger, allowing Francis to see it. "This ring was my mother's. She gave it to me before she died, and she made me promise to someday give it to the person I love the most in the world…"

Francis smiled softly again, his dulled eyes slowly observing the way the ring twinkled in the light. Arthur's words flowed over him, the Englishman's voice like a sweet honey that filled Francis with a content happiness. His eyes widened slightly when Arthur gently took Francis' hand in his, slipping the beautiful ring onto Francis' frail finger.

"That person is you, Francis. It always has been…"

Francis smiled, before he surprised Arthur by letting out a small chuckle. It was weak and quiet, but it made Arthur's heart fill with hope nonetheless. "…You…didn't ask properly, _cher_ …"

This made Arthur chuckle as well despite himself, and he kissed Francis' fingertips. "Will you do me the honour of marrying me, Francis?~"

The most beautiful, heart-wrenching smile took over Francis' features, as in his state he believed he could really marry the man he loved. A few tears slipped down the Frenchman's cheeks as he tentatively lifted his right hand, trying to get Arthur to come closer. The Englishman obliged, and Francis leaned up slightly to connect their lips. Arthur was overcome with emotion but he was careful not to get carried away and hurt his lover, so he kissed him back softly, before mumbling against his lips. "You didn't answer properly, love…~"

Francis giggled softly, his dulled eyes holding some sparkle again. ".. _O-Oui, oui, amour, oui_ ~" he whispered, smiling brightly.

Arthur beamed, kissing Francis again before bringing his lover's ring-adorned hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles charmingly. Francis watched him with a beautiful smile, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he looked as his fiancé.

Arthur gently brushed Francis' brittle hair away from his face, caressing his cheek gently. He paused his action as Francis gently held his wrist. "A-Arthur… _serre-moi_ …"

The Englishman's expression softened as he nodded, doing as Francis asked by slipping into bed beside him and gently scooping the light Frenchman into his arms, embracing him and letting Francis lay his head against Arthur's strong chest. Francis sighed happily, feeling no pain from his broken body as Arthur had kept up his medication, and he sank against Arthur's chest, playing absently with his lover's crinkled shirt.

A few moments passed in silence, and Arthur kissed the top of Francis' head as the other settled against him. Then, Francis spoke softly, his accent thick as if he were in a haze. "…Who will be at our wedding…?"

Arthur smiled, happy to prolong this fantasy of marrying Francis as he stroked the golden hair of his lover's delicately. "Well, Madeline and Alfred will be there…and Pearce can take the day off to attend, of course." He kept his tone serious, allowing Francis to believe they were genuinely planning their wedding.

Francis hummed softly in approval. "…And Gilbert, _mon cher_ …"

Arthur internally rolled his eyes, but he smiled. "Yes, and Gilbert." He allowed himself to picture the scene in his mind's eye, holding Francis close. "Alfred can be my best man, and Madeline can be your bridesmaid."

His teasing only seemed to make Francis happier and he nodded slightly. "Hmm…I will be all in white, with flowers in my hair~" a dreamy smile landed on his features as he closed his eyes, also imagining it. " _Et_ Pearce can walk me down the aisle…~"

Arthur smiled, kissing Francis' temple. "I'll be waiting for you, watching you walk down the aisle and thinking that you are so unbelievably beautiful, and I am so lucky to be marrying you…"

Francis nuzzled against his chest, his left hand playing with the buttons on Arthur's shirt gently. Arthur watched the ring sparkle on Francis' finger, feeling a strong flutter of happiness that he foolishly allowed. "…We'll have rose petals…scattered down the aisle…a-and you can have a rose right here…" Francis gestured by placing his hand on the right side of Arthur's chest, where a suit pocket would be.

Arthur nodded, chuckling softly. "Of course. And once we are married, I shall sweep you off your feet and carry you to an awaiting carriage, and you and I shall go to Paris to celebrate our wedding~"

Francis beamed at this, looking up at his lover with hopeful blue eyes. "We'll go to Paris?" he asked, his eyes sparkling at the prospect.

The Englishman stroked Francis' cheek gently in adoration. "We can go and see that 'Eiffel Tower' that everyone keeps going on about…"

Francis nodded happily, as he had left France before the Eiffel Tower was finished, and as such had never seen Tower in all its glory.

Arthur continued, "And then we'll come back to London, and in a few years we shall give our blessing for Madeline to marry Gilbert, and for Alfred to marry whomever he has fallen in love with by then…and we will have grandchildren, and we will grow old together, you and me…" his voice faltered slightly at this.

Francis only hummed, closing his eyes again. "…We'll be happy…" he whispered.

Arthur nodded, kissing the top of his head. "And I promise I will do my best to be a loving husband, Francis. I will cherish you, and I will never, ever take you for granted…"

Francis seemed to lean more against him, his head resting against Arthur's shoulder.

"I will never hurt you, love." Arthur continued, caught up in his promise. "I will treat you like a Prince, and I will spend every second of the day thanking God for my beautiful husband…"

Francis' hand slipped slightly down Arthur's chest, losing his grip and coming to rest limply against the bedsheets.

"…Francis?" Arthur's breath caught in his throat as he failed to receive a response from his beloved Frenchman. Francis' lips were parted slightly and his eyes were closed as if in sleep, but this time, Arthur knew he wasn't just sleeping.

"…Love?" Arthur's voice was a hoarse whisper as he wished in vain for Francis to open his eyes again, just once more.

Francis was still, his body limp and his heart silent.

The Englishman trembled as he wasn't willing to accept it, not yet. He held Francis close, rocking him gently and lovingly. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he let out a strangled sob, cradling Francis' face in his hands and kissing his unresponsive lips desperately, willing him to come back.

 _He didn't even get to say goodbye._

 _He didn't get to apologise._

 _He didn't get to tell Francis how much he loved him._

XxX

Arthur sat numbly in the chair he had occupied for two weeks, watching as Madeline and Alfred both said silent goodbyes to a Francis who was no longer there. All that was left was a cold body under a white sheet.

Pearce stood in the doorway, a single tear rolling down the usually stern man's face. Francis had been like a son to him, and the loyal butler felt the loss as much as the rest of the family.

Alfred was trying to be strong, stony-faced as he stood by the bedside, but when he turned his face away, Arthur knew the boy was crying. Madeline was sobbing, her soft hands clutching one of Francis', and Arthur took one look at the ring on the Frenchman's finger before tearing his gaze away.

It was too painful to see now.

Gilbert rubbed Maddie's shoulders gently, trying to comfort her. Francis had been the first person to be so kind to him, and the Frenchman had done so much for Gilbert that the albino young man could never repay. Madeline turned to him, and Gilbert embraced her, soothing her and kissing her forehead softly as she wept against his shoulder.

Arthur watched, realising that his children needed him now, more than ever. He needed to make up for Francis no longer being there, and so he stood, approaching Alfred and pulling him into a firm hug. The boy stiffened, unused to such affection from his father, but he quickly returned the hug, and soon both Alfred and Arthur were weeping against each other's shoulders.

Francis had been so beloved within their household, and now that he was gone, there was a gaping hole in each of their hearts; a bleeding wound that felt as if it would never heal.

XxX

 _Arthur opened his eyes, seeing that he was in his own bedroom. The light curtains billowed in the breeze that blew in from the large open window, and an angel stood on the balcony. His angel. Francis._

 _Francis turned to him with a smile, in his white nightgown, his golden hair tousled by the breeze. "Bon matin, amour~" his voice was silk and Arthur couldn't help but smile._

 _He slid out of bed, as Francis stepped into the bedroom. The two met halfway and embraced, Arthur burying his face in the crook of Francis' neck and inhaling the floral perfume the Frenchman loved to wear._

 _Francis laughed softly, pulling back a little as he noticed how Arthur clung to him. "What is wrong, mon cher?" his sparkling blue eyes held amusement, but he found the attention endearing._

 _Arthur only smiled, feeling at peace with the beautiful man before him. "I just…I love you, Francis." He breathed out, knowing he never said it enough._

 _Francis blinked but beamed, touching Arthur's cheek. "I know you do~ Just as I love you, Arthur~" he purred, placing a light kiss to the Englishman's lips._

 _Arthur sighed happily, before embracing Francis again. All his grief melted away at the feeling of holding the healthy Frenchman in his arms, and he smiled as he felt Francis running slender fingers through his hair._

 _Francis returned the embrace, before gently capturing Arthur's lips with his own. Arthur kissed him back fervently, trying desperately to show the Frenchman how much affection he had for him, and when he felt Francis smile against his lips, he knew that he had conveyed his love._

 _Arthur slipped his hands down to Francis' waist, pulling him closer as he kissed his lover more deeply, getting lost in the kiss entirely. Francis hummed, sliding his arms around the Englishman's neck in response._

 _Arthur's heart felt as if it would burst with happiness, and he never wanted it to end._

 _But slowly, the feeling of Francis' lips against his began to fade, and his world darkened…_

…Arthur woke up in his bedroom, and he leapt out of bed, dashing to the window in the vain hope that he would see Francis there, but his bedroom was empty except for him.

The reality that Francis had passed away crashed down on the Englishman, and his emerald eyes filled with fresh tears as he grieved. He sat back down on his bed, weeping with his head in his hands as he badly missed Francis' touch, his kisses and his beautiful smiles.

He missed the smell of his perfume, and his flamboyant clothes, and his perfect hair. He missed his stupid stubble and his over-friendly hands and his beautiful eyes.

He missed Francis.

…A soft knock sounded at Arthur's bedroom door, and Arthur raised his head, thinking for a moment that it may be Francis after all, having only been asleep this whole time.

But he knew that would not be the case, so with leaden limbs, he heaved himself up to answer the door.

* * *

 **A/N: This is not the end of the story! I'm not finished yet!**

 **But it finally happened – I cried.**

 **Please review and let me know if I wrote it well or not because I don't know – I got caught up in the emotion~**

 **I love you all! Thank you for being so supportive with this story so far! xxx**


	18. Yours Forever

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Side note: This is the final chapter of this rollercoaster of a story. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed this story and my others – it really means a lot to me!**

 **Please enjoy~ x**

* * *

 **Chapter 18**

The knock came again as Arthur moved to answer the door, pulling it open begrudgingly. Pearce stood there, his expression stony and almost unreadable as it usually was, but Arthur thought he saw the glint of tears in the old butler's eyes.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Master Arthur, but I was instructed to give you this…" Pearce reached into the inner breast pocket of his uniform, pulling out a pristine white letter concealed in an envelope with one word scrawled on the front in pretty writing: 'Arthur.'

The Englishman immediately recognised the fancy scrawl, and tears pricked his eyes as he took the letter, tracing a finger softly over the letters Francis himself had written.

"What is this…?" he asked meekly, afraid to see the contents of the letter himself from the man he loved more than anything.

The butler lowered his head slightly. "It is his goodbye. Master Francis wrote one for you and the children a month ago, when he knew what would inevitably happen to him…" Pearce swallowed slightly, before straightening up. "Master Francis asked me to give you the letters when he…"

Arthur only nodded, holding the letter gingerly in shaking hands. "Very well…Thank you, Pearce…" he murmured, and the butler bowed his head, leaving the room to allow Arthur some time to read.

The Englishman sank down on the bed, perching there as he just stared at the paper in his hands. He was afraid to open it and read what would come directly from Francis' heart. It would only confirm the fact that he really was gone – something Arthur wasn't ready to grasp.

XxX

Alfred and Madeline both sat on the girl's bed, tears in their eyes. Madeline had not left her room since saying goodbye to her beloved Papa, and she had not bothered to get dressed into anything other than her nightgown. Alfred was handling his grief differently, trying to remain strong as he knew his Father was as distraught as his sister. He was staying with Madeline to provide comfort, having always been a protective and devoted brother.

Pearce had given them a letter from Francis, and now Alfred held it in his hands, reading it in a voice that he willed not to tremble whilst Madeline sat on the edge of her bed, listening as silent tears trickled down her pale cheeks.

" _My dearest children, if you are reading this, it means that I am no longer in this world with you. For that, I am most regretful."_ Alfred began reading, and Madeline closed her eyes, her brother's voice soon becoming replaced with a familiar French accent in her mind.

 _"I have always loved you both more than anything in the whole world. I have loved you from the moment I found you both starving on the cold, London streets all those years ago. I am so very proud of how far you have both come, mes petits, and I know that as I watch you from my hopeful place in heaven, I will see you continue to grow. Madeline, I know that you are well on your way to becoming the most beautiful young lady in the world, and with your intelligence and your gentle nature, I am sure that you will be very happy with Gilbert. I give you my blessing if you wish to be with him, and I will watch over you both and the children you will have. My only request is that you save me a seat next to your Father at your wedding~"_

Madeline listened, tears slipping down her cheeks as she nodded almost imperceptibly. "O-Oui, Papa…M-My children will hear stories of h-how wonderful their grandpapa was…" her voice was barely above a whisper, but Alfred heard her and reached out, gently taking her hand in his and squeezing it in comfort. After a moment, he continued.

 _"Alfred, mon cher, I regret that you and I were not as close as you got older – something I wish I could have remedied before my time was up. But I hope you know that I am so proud of the young man you have become. I hope you find happiness and love, as I have with your Father, and I know that you will be a wonderful father to any children you may also have._

 _I wish for you and Madeline to always remain close. The two of you have always been inseparable, and I hope that these close ties will remain. Alfred, look after your sister, and make sure that she is always looked after and that she is always able to do whatever her heart strives for._

 _Maddie, I will ask that you look after Alfred as well, as we both know how he can sometimes be rather stubborn and hot-headed. He will be your protector and you will be there to calm him._

 _Lastly, I will ask that you both take care of your dear Father. I cannot bear the thought of Arthur becoming reclusive and depressed because of my absence, so I hope that the two of you will stay close to him too, and be there for him when times are particularly hard. I want you all to be happy, and I want your Father to find happiness again in someone else, even if it means forgetting me. He deserves to be happy; you all do._

 _I love you all, and I ask that you never forget that, at least. I will always be with you, and I am sorry that I will not be there in person to see you both with your own families. And thank Pearce for me; he has done more for me than you will ever know._

 _Yours always,_

 _Papa~"_

Alfred fell silent as the two children let their Papa's final wishes absorb in their minds. Finally, Madeline smiled despite her tears. "Papa wants me to marry Gilbert…" she whispered.

Alfred glanced at her, before nodding and smiling too. "So do I." he confirmed, pulling his sister into a gentle hug and kissing her forehead. "But if he ever hurts you, I'll kill him~"

Maddie just smiled, returning her brother's embrace.

XxX

Arthur sighed shakily, having been sat on his bed staring at the unopened envelope nervously. Eventually, he summoned the courage to break Francis' seal, slowly unfolding the paper to reveal more of Francis' beautiful scrawling writing. Taking a deep breath, he began to read in silence, allowing the words to adopt Francis' familiar lilt in his mind.

 _"My dearest Arthur._

 _Truthfully I have so much I wish to say to you, but I cannot convey it all in a simple letter. I can only hope you are aware of how much love I have for you. So, where do I start, mon amour? We have been through so much together, both good and bad._

 _I will be forever grateful that you found me when you were twelve years old. I was starving on the streets, having stowed away on a ship from Paris because my parents had found out that I was…homosexual, I believe is the correct term. I had no clothes, no money, no place to call home. And then you found me, and you took me in. Your mother was so very kind to me – she spoke French and she taught me English, which I tried so very hard to learn so that I could properly thank you. Your father was far less kind to me, and I never fully admitted to you the things that he did to me, but I never wanted you to hate your own family, or feel torn between them and me. But when you realised that I was in pain, you would always try to comfort me even though you did not fully understand the cause of it. That was possibly when I first realised I loved you. You were such a sweet little boy with a kind heart, and I wanted to take care of you so that you would always stay that way._

 _I am sorry that I failed in that way, for once your mother died, your father claimed control of you and he influenced you more than you would likely admit. You developed a horrible temper from him, and you became shut away in your studies. It broke my heart to see, but then there were moments when the boy I fell in love with would reappear, such as when you would seek me out for comfort or advice. It always made me feel wanted and needed, and I was more than happy to look after you._

 _Although it is a terrible thing to wish for, I was happy when your father died. It freed you somewhat from his iron grip, and you became more loving again. You finally revealed that you loved me as I loved you, and the moments of passion and intimacy we shared I shall always treasure. I always loved waking up in your arms, as much as I loved falling asleep against your chest at night. You would hold me close and make me feel as though I was the most precious thing in the world to you._

 _When I brought Alfred and Madeline into our home, you withdrew again, and it broke my heart. I know it was foolish of me to expect you to be as open with the children as you were with me, but in time, you became their Father as much as I was their Papa. You are such a good Father, mon cher, although I know you do not think so. The children adore you, and although we have had struggles and arguments, that is what every family endures. It only means we love each other._

 _I am so proud of you, amour. I wish I could have told you this in person, but I do not trust my voice not to falter. I ask that you take care of our children enough for the both of us, now. I know it will be difficult, but I shall be watching over you. I will be your guardian angel, if you like. Nothing could stop me from taking care of my family. I also ask that you move on, and find true happiness once again. I do not want you to be miserable simply because my beautiful self is not there for you to admire~_

 _I know I should not ask too much of you, but I have one more request. I ask that you give Madeline and Gilbert your blessing of marriage once our darling daughter is old enough to be wed. I have already given my blessing in another letter that the children have received. Gilbert is a good man, and he will take care of her. I shall look forward to the wedding~_

 _Now then, I know you are strong, mon cher. You can go on and be happy, and you can take care of our family. I will always love you, mon amour, and I pray that one day we shall meet again, but not too soon, oui?_

 _Yours forever,_

 _Francis~"_

Arthur's eyes had filled with tears, but by the end of the letter, he found himself smiling. Trust Francis to use his own passing to manipulate Arthur into agreeing to anything. But Arthur wasn't angry, and instead he felt a strange sense of peace.

Yes, Francis had passed away, but he was most definitely not gone.

With that thought in mind, Arthur rose off the bed, tucking the letter into his own breast pocket, close to his heart, before going to give his blessing to his daughter.

XxX

Four years later, Arthur was sat on a little wooden seat in Hyde Park, with many other seats filled with friends, family and acquaintances of Madeline and Gilbert. It was a beautiful summer's day, and the 14th July; Francis' birthday. Madeline had chosen the date, knowing her wedding would be the best present her Papa could ever ask for.

Arthur watched with tears in his eyes as his beautiful daughter and her almost husband exchanged vows, taking in every detail. Madeline's wedding dress was stunning, and Gilbert looked very handsome in his best suit. He was grinning madly the whole time, and Arthur smiled at how happy the albino man was.

The Englishman was wearing a red rose tucked into his breast pocket, and he wore a simple silver band on his ring ringer, in memory of the unofficial marriage he had wished to share with Francis. The wedding looked exactly as he and Francis had planned their own one to be, when Francis was on his death-bed. Madeline had wanted that too, and Arthur greatly appreciated it.

Alfred was sat on Arthur's left, trying not to cry as he watched his sister marry the man that he had grown to accept as part of the family. As Francis had requested, Pearce had taken the day off and was sat beside Alfred, looking on like a proud father, and Arthur guessed that the butler was possibly seeing this as Francis' wedding vicariously.

On Arthur's right was an empty seat, only it wasn't really empty. It was reserved for Francis, and as the wedding continued, Arthur felt a cool hand slip into his right one, and he felt his shoulders touch with someone that he couldn't see, but he knew was there.

The Englishman smiled, knowing his lover would not have missed this day for the world, and he gave the invisible hand a light squeeze, feeling something brush against his cheek, and he could have sworn it felt like the Frenchman's soft lips.

Arthur sighed in content, cheering as the priest pronounced Madeline and Gilbert as husband and wife, and beaming as his daughter held onto her new husband's arm. Gilbert grinned, walking her down the aisle, and he nodded to Arthur as they passed him. Arthur returned the nod, and he smiled as he heard the soft sound of laughter, joyous and beautiful, whisper past his ear.

Yes, his lover had passed away, but he would never be truly gone.

 _ **~Fin~**_

* * *

 **A/N: We did it! We finished the story!**

 **Because you have all been so incredibly supportive of this story, I would like to personally give some thanks:**

 **Madison camelia** – thank you so much for following since the first chapter, and for reading some of my other stories too! It means a lot~ x

 **Oh-cripe-my-fish** – I really appreciate your in-depth reviews, they genuinely help me to improve my writing!

 **Olivia Kirkland** – thank you for being so invested in the story, and I'm sorry I put you through so much trauma XD

 **BlondieBrit** – Thank you for supporting the level of UKFr, I think it's underappreciated as well~ Also your dedication to my stories is really lovely x

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 **Kin-cy29** – I love how invested you were especially in hating Arthur's father. I hated him too and I made him up!

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 **And to everyone else who reviewed and read this story, lots and lots of love! Xx**

 **Thank you so much!~**

 **Please review to let me know what you thought of the ending, and also check out my other stories! I write a lot of FrUK and I have a new Pirate!England x France story coming soon!**

 **Love you all~ xxxxxxxxxx**


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